The Forbidden Heir
by AgiVega
Summary: What can a magician do if her lover starts to neglect her for his filthy commoner wife? Jane Farrar is on the warpath, John and Kitty Mandrake, beware! AU
1. The Start of a Really Bad Day

**Summary**: A story of a young man who seeks power so much that he fails to notice the really important things in life. And Jane's there to ruin things even more…

My first fic in this fandom, hope you will like it. It's pretty much a love story, but I tried to make sure that it doesn't get sappy, at least not too much. I'd hate to give my readers cavities with all the fluff, so I cut back on it as much as possible. Also, I can't imagine Nat going sappy. No, not at all.

This is a Nathaniel-centred fic (I totally adore him), but there will be lots of Kitty and later Bartimaeus too will appear and ruin Nat's life in his own charming way :) Naturally, this is an **AU story**, **based on the first two books only.** I decided to ignore the fact that book three ever existed. **NAT LIVES FOREVER:)**

**So, if you find anything in this story that contradicts book three, then it's because it's AU (mind you, I haven't even read book three, as it hasn't come out in Hungary yet, so I wasn't in any way influenced by it).**

**Huge thanks to** **my wonderful beta Michael**, who not only corrected my grammar (English isn't my native language), but also gave me invaluable advice on various British aspects of the story. I don't know what I would have done without his help…

There will be quite a few references to my other fandoms (Harry Potter, Star Wars), so please, bear with them.

**WARNING:** this story is not M (R) rated, BUT it has a few **strong T** **(PG-13) scenes**, therefore **people under 13 are strongly discouraged to read it.**

**Disclaimer:** the Bartimaeus trilogy belongs to Jonathan Stroud. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. Only the plot and a few OC's belong to yours truly.

o o o O O O o o o

**Chapter 1**

**The Start of a Really Bad Day **

Jane was fondly looking at the young man lying next to her. His long black hair was spread out on one of her pink silk pillows, and his bare chest was rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. She hadn't often seen John Mandrake looking so peaceful – most of the time he was irritable, snappish and constantly concerned about politics. No wonder - as the Minister of Internal Affairs he had a huge weight on his shoulders – a weight that he had been carrying for five years.

John was nineteen years old now and quite a handsome young man with his pale complexion, enigmatic blue eyes and long hair that had the habit of obscuring his elegant features like a dark curtain. His physique had also changed since Jane had first met him: as a Minister he could afford to have a huge house with a sizable swimming pool in the back garden. Apparently he'd always loved swimming, even as a little boy. Now anyone who had a chance to see him without a shirt could have told that he was an enthusiastic swimmer. Not that anyone _had_ a chance to see him shirtless – only Jane Farrar had that privilege. She'd been his lover for almost two years now.

Their relationship wasn't based on love – they would have very likely cursed anyone who dared accuse them of caring for each other – it was a relationship of convenience. Jane was attracted to the good-looking young man and his high position in the government, and hoped that some day the world would know her as Mrs. Mandrake. As for John (the only name she knew him by, although she'd tried - and failed - on a few occasions to find out his birth name) Jane was the perfect tool for stress-relief. And stressed his life was, indeed.

Despite the small triumph he'd had over the ever-strengthening Resistance by catching and incarcerating one of their ringleaders, Kathleen Jones, the young man knew that the 'war' with the commoners was far from over. If possible, the Resistance got only more vicious since Miss Jones had been thrown into the Tower and was making daily skirmishes all around London.

To cap this all, the situation in the Americas wasn't as rosy as the government would have desired, and John was constantly after suspected American spies who were either infiltrating the London magician society or mingling with British commoners, instigating rebellion.

To put it in a nutshell, John Mandrake had a life full of stress for which the only relief was workout in the swimming pool and 'workout' in Jane Farrar's bed.

o o o O O O o o o

The first rays of the rising sun came through the window, prompting Jane to get up and make a coffee – a mild one for herself and an extra strong one for her lover. No doubt, John would again be having a hard day; the Prime Minister himself had requested his presence for a meeting of great importance in the morning. Very likely they'd be discussing the Resistance or the situation in America, or both.

When Jane returned to her room with two steaming cups of coffee, the sight that greeted her made her stop in the doorway.

John was having a nightmare. He was twisting and turning in his sleep, his arms flailing as though he were fighting a demon. "I'll get you Lovelace… I'll get you for this…" he muttered as his arms slumped down on the mattress next to him. "Bartimaeus… you will get the Amulet from Lovelace… Bartimaeus, this is an order!"

Suddenly, the muttering stopped, and the young man sat up, gasping for breath. His glance fell on the woman standing in the doorframe. "What… what happened?"

"I don't know," Jane replied in a neutral voice and walked up to him with the tray. "Perhaps you had a bad dream?"

He ran his hand nervously through his black locks, sweeping them out of his face. "Maybe. I didn't… _talk_, did I?"

For a second he looked like the same vulnerable little boy whom she had almost managed to bewitch five years earlier. "No, you didn't say a thing just kept twitching," she replied, handing him his cup of coffee. "Here, this will help you clear your head. Drink up, Deveraux's expecting you in half an hour."

"Half an hour?" John gasped, quickly checking the bedside clock. "Damn it. You could have woken me up earlier, you know." He quickly downed the coffee and hurried into the adjacent bathroom.

_I could have_, Jane thought amusedly. _But then I wouldn't have heard you mentioning Bartimaeus, my dear. I had almost forgotten about him, how stupid of me. It never hurts to remember such things… I like you John, but you can be just as formidable as an enemy as you are good as a lover._ _Perhaps some day you'll be telling me your birth name while you're sleeping…_ She allowed herself a contented grin. Having John Mandrake as a lover had several advantages.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel irritably blew the horn of his limousine. He was driving the car – he had been driving it himself ever since he was old enough to get a driving licence. Not having to rely on a chauffeur gave him greater freedom to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Now, however, his freedom was restricted by the morning traffic jam. For ten minutes he'd been inching forward centimetre by centimetre in the never-ending queue heading towards Whitehall.

He was beginning to lose his patience. No, he'd lost it already. The only thing that kept him from shouting out the window of his car at anyone who'd listen was his dignity. John Mandrake, youngest Minister ever, would not sink so low as to let filthy commoners see him lose his nerve.

So far the morning had been horrible. He still vividly remembered his dream – a dream that had been haunting him for nine years: the humiliation he had had to suffer at Simon Lovelace's hands. In the last few weeks he'd been having this nightmare almost every night. He suspected it had something to do with the immense pressure he was subjected to. He was cracking under the weight, but he wouldn't admit it to himself.

And now, one more weight was placed on his shoulder: the suspicion that Jane had heard something she shouldn't have. True, she had told him with a sweet smile that she'd only seen him twisting and turning, but Nathaniel had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him not to trust the woman. He had never really trusted her – he knew her too well for that.

It had been foolish of him to stay overnight, he decided. Months and months earlier he had had spent a few nights at Jane's place, but then he hadn't had nightmares every night.

The next time he'd feel like forgetting about his stressful life in Jane's arms, he'd visit her, do the deed and head home. He couldn't risk her overhearing something he wished to keep a secret.

Finally, twenty minutes after he was supposed to, Nathaniel arrived at Whitehall. Dashing upstairs he nearly knocked over an old lady carrying huge stacks of papers. He only slowed down when the door of the Prime Minister's office came into view. He fished a pale blue handkerchief out of his pocket (he had given up on flashy red ones years ago) to dry his sweating face, and smoothed his cloak to look as presentable as possible. The guards standing at the PM's door let him in without a word, one of them giving his slightly dishevelled appearance a curious glance.

"Ah, just the man we need!" Deveraux greeted the newcomer with a wide grin.

_This starts out bad_, Nathaniel thought. If the Prime Minister wasn't questioning him about being twenty minutes late, then it could only mean one thing: he wanted something rather unpleasant of him.

"Sir," Nathaniel nodded politely. "I'm sorry about making you wait-"

"Never mind, John, never mind," Deveraux said, giving the young man a view of all of his thirty-two teeth. "Come, sit down, please."

Nathaniel took a place on the sofa between the Minister of Food and the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport. He noted that the Secretaries of State for Economic Affairs and Employment; the Foreign Minister and the Minister of Information were also present. This only strengthened his feeling of uncertainty. He didn't remember when he'd last been invited to a discussion with so many important ministers present. These people wanted something of him.

"Well, I'm all ears, Sir," Nathaniel said, trying to look and sound carefree.

The Prime Minister cleared his throat. "You know that I've considered you as my Right Hand for years, John…"

_This is getting worse and worse_, the young magician told himself and fought down the urge to grimace. Forcing a politely attentive expression on his face, he nodded.

"…therefore, when we found the solution to appease the commoners, we decided we needed to talk to you."

"Me, Sir? About what?" Nathaniel asked.

"If you don't mind, I'd take over from here," the Minister of Information spoke up. "As you know, Mr. Mandrake, it is the task of my department to find out what the commoners think of us, and to form their views of the magicians with the help of propaganda."

His lips pressed tightly together, Nathaniel nodded. Why were people talking to him as though he were a newborn who didn't know anything? It was most disturbing.

"We have come to the conclusion that the commoners need concessions."

"What kind of concessions?" Nathaniel arched an eyebrow at the Minister of Information.

"Well… we thought it would not hurt to let a few of them into the government… to give them the least important portfolios, like… Minister for Arts or Secretary of State for Education and Skills. You know, the so-called 'light' portfolios. Then the commoners could no longer scream 'injustice' – they get two more or less important seats in Parliament."

"What makes you think that giving the education portfolio to a commoner would do us any good?" Nathaniel frowned. "The first thing the new education minister would do is publish new history books that tell about the accomplishments of the commoners as well… we will lose face if the average Brit learns that not all the great deeds were done by magicians. I for one don't second this decision. Giving the commoners the health portfolio sounds more logical. It doesn't really matter whether it's a magician or a commoner who makes sure that the bird flu doesn't strike in Great Britain. As for-"

"John, please," Deveraux cut in with a benign expression that anyone could see was forced. "We appreciate your opinion on this topic, but this isn't what we called you here for today."

"What is it, then?" Nathaniel said sharply. If they hadn't requested his presence because they needed his opinion, then why?

"Well, the point is that we make concessions to the commoners," the Minister of Information continued, looking disgruntled by the fact that Mandrake, who was at least thirty years younger than him, found flaws in his well-thought-out plans. "Step one is letting a few of them into the government – giving them power in areas in which they can't do much harm. Step two is giving them a chance to apply for assistant jobs in Whitehall. Step three-"

"Assistant jobs?" Nathaniel gasped. "But that is madness! Giving the commoners a glimpse into important Ministry affairs? Giving them a chance to photocopy secret contracts? Why not give them free entry into the magicians' central library? Let them learn how to summon demons and wreak havoc!"

"John, please!" The Prime Minister held up his hand. "No need for sarcasm. We see your point and will make sure that the commoners who get jobs in Whitehall will not have access to any _important_ papers."

"Then what will they do? Serve our coffees?" young Mandrake countered.

"For example." The Secretary of State for Employment said. "However, these are just plans so far – they need to go before the Parliament for approval and I'm sure it will take months if not years until we manage to reach an agreement. What our friend Dickinson wanted to say," he slightly bowed in the Minister of Information's direction, "is that there's only one thing that we all agree on, and that is step three, which very likely will become step one, as it's much more easily and quickly accomplishable than the other two."

"I fear I don't understand what you're talking about," Nathaniel said, willing himself to sound composed, while his insides were trembling with nervousness.

"A marriage, Mr Mandrake," Dickinson said. "A marriage between a high-ranking ministry official and a commoner. That would assure the average Brit of our good intentions."

"An arranged marriage?" Nathaniel made an amused expression. "Is that the best you could come up with? And who's the unfortunate bloke whom you've chosen for the 'noble task'?"

"Well…" Deveraux shrugged with an apologetic face, "as all of the high-ranking ministry officials are above forty and married already, there's only one person eligible for the 'noble task'."

The sarcastic smile vanished from Nathaniel's face. They couldn't mean what he thought they meant?

"John, we thought of you."

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N:** for your information: the whole story is written (I finished it three weeks ago), but since I'm still tweaking it, I won't be posting more than one chapter a week. Sometimes only one chapter per two weeks, as summer's coming. Dunno when the next chapter will be up, as I'm having an extremely difficult, four hour long accountancy exam next week. Say 'May the Force be with you, Agi!' And **be so kind and review!**


	2. An Unlikely Visitor with an Unlikely

**A/N:** well, the written part of my accounting exam was today, but I won't find out the results till Monday. If I passed the written part, then I will have to take the oral part on Monday (unfortunately you can fail the oral part even if you've passed the written one… so keep saying 'May the Force be with you, Agi!' :)

As for the fic, **the amount of response I got for the first chapter was overwhelming, really. I never expected more than 7-8 reviews, and I got 26! Thanks so much:D**

**Review responses have been sent out, I hope all of you got them. **

**Also thanks to: _Saldaen farmgirl, ., the Thirteenth Councilor, TarynMaegan, Slytherin Daughter, Hello, Musica Diabolos, Astrensi, Maddie, Gremlin, Ayleia, BobtheFrog, Queen Dragon, T, sderai_**

**Chapter 2**

**An Unlikely Visitor with an Unlikely Proposal**

"You've got to be kidding," Nathaniel said, as white as a sheet.

"We are not," Deveraux replied, his expression still that of a benign father (which irritated Nathaniel even more because this way he found it difficult to hate the Prime Minister as much as he deserved to be hated after such an announcement). "Listen here, John. We all know that this idea comes totally out of the blue, we know that it is highly unpleasant for you, but… we also know that you'd do anything to serve your homeland to the best of your abilities."

Nathaniel pressed his lips even tighter together so that they now formed one single line.

The Prime Minister was using emotional blackmail on him. And he was doing it in a way that left Nathaniel no option but to agree. After all, he couldn't tell the truth – that he wasn't, had never been and would never be serving his homeland, only his own interests? If he refused to do Deveraux – and his homeland – this 'little favour' now, that would be as good as starting to dig his own grave.

Focusing on the lovely mental image of himself sitting at Deveraux's place some day, having the power to instruct _others_ to get married when they don't want to, Nathaniel forced a small smile on his face. "Naturally, Sir. I'm a humble servant to the Empire."

"Wonderful!" Deveraux clapped. "I knew you'd quickly see the importance of this matter and be willing to help us… to help saving our beloved Empire. I'm very proud of you, John. And after all, this whole business will not require a huge sacrifice from you. You just say the 'I do's, let the woman move into your house, sometimes bring her to our ceremonial gatherings… apart from that, you can ignore her. You can continue living your life as you have before." The Prime Minister leaned closer with a mischievous grin, "you can even keep Miss Farrar as your girlfriend. I'm sure no one will be scandalised if you do."

A few sniggers could be heard from the other ministers who had apparently been aware of John Mandrake's relationship to the beautiful female magician. After all, the young man had never made a secret of it and had appeared at receptions with Jane as his partner on several occasions.

"I'm glad to know that our government consists of open-minded gentlemen," Nathaniel said with a barely noticeable sarcastic edge. "I expect you're planning a big, fancy wedding to give the commoners something to gape at through the television screens…"

"We were hoping you wouldn't mind a big ceremony." Deveraux nodded. "And what would appease the average Brit more than seeing _one of them_ walking down the aisle in a dress befitting a monarch, packed with jewels, carrying the most expensive bouquet of tropical flowers…?"

"Eye-candy for the mob, huh?" Nathaniel mused. "Not bad as a PR-trick, I have to give it to you."

"I'm so glad you agree with us, John," the Prime Minister beamed.

"Just one more thing, Sir. Who is the commoner I should take as my wife?"

"Well…" Deveraux glanced at the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport.

Said minister, a thin man in his forties cleared his throat. "We thought that the best way of appeasing the commoners would be if you married one of their ringleaders. Someone from the Resistance. That would give them the impression that we, the generous magicians are not angry with them for their little… misdeeds."

"But the Resistance is still out of our reach, gentlemen," Nathaniel said matter-of-factly. "How do you expect to get one of them to marry me?" A sarcastic grin spread on his face. "I already see the headline: _'Girls of the Resistance, don't miss the opportunity of a lifetime! One of you will have the honour of marrying a powerful magician and lead the life of a princess! Please apply at Whitehall with a C.V._' Honestly. Do you expect them to respond to something like this?"

"Er… no," said Deveraux. "But we don't need to _find_ a female member of the Resistance, John. You have already found one."

Nathaniel's face darkened. "You don't mean it. _Not her_."

"Why not, John? She's been one of their leaders, after all. They look up to her. For over a month they've been trying to take revenge on us for imprisoning her. There's no better choice than Kathleen Jones."

"If she kills me, make sure that you bury me in Westminster Abbey," Nathaniel said dryly. "Perhaps in Gladstone's tomb. He's no longer using it, and I have always been his admirer."

o o o O O O o o o

"Jones!" The jailer beckoned to Kitty from the door of her cell.

"Isn't it too early for lunch?" the girl asked sharply.

"I'm not bringing your lunch, I'm bringing you out of here," the man grunted.

"What?" Kitty's eyes widened. An amnesty? Had the oh-so-great magicians granted her an amnesty? Had the Resistance forced them to let her go? Or were they giving her a trial at last? Not that it would matter; after all, she was caught red-handed, trying to steal magical artefacts from a Ministry official. Even if she _had_ a trial, she wouldn't have a chance to win. But perhaps she'd have a chance to call a few magicians arseholes before a huge audience. That would be more than satisfying. Especially if that Mandrake was present…

Mandrake had been the one who sent four policemen at her, and no matter how tough a fighter she was, she couldn't tackle four muscled magicians. Mandrake had been clever to make policemen catch her instead of siccing his demons at her. He knew she was resilient to magic.

Kitty's hands clenched into fists as Mandrake's pitiful grimace came to her mind – he had given her a patronising glance as the four musclemen carried her to the car that took her to the Tower.

It had been over a month, and Kitty had had spent that month in a dirty little cell, separated from everyone. She was given meals twice a day and a chance to wash herself once a week, but she had to use the 'toilet' (that happened to be a hole in the floor) in her cell.

"Move, Jones," the jailer snapped.

Reluctantly, Kitty got up from her cot and headed for the door. She saw that two guards were waiting outside. This obviously couldn't mean an amnesty, or they wouldn't take so much care of their prisoner. Perhaps a trial…

"Where are we going?" Kitty enquired, following the jailer while the two guards followed her.

"To the bathroom," came the reply.

"But… but it's not Sunday," Kitty said. "It's Wednesday, and I always get to use the shower on Sundays."

The jailer turned around. "You have a visitor, missy. Someone for whom you can't appear in rags like these, and smelling like this…"

Kitty looked down at her clothes. They were tattered and dirty and smelly, but she'd got so used to them that she no longer noticed her own stench. "Does this mean I'm getting fresh clothes?"

"Just for today," the jailer replied gruffly and stopped before a door labelled 'bathroom – women'. "Go and take a shower. Wash your hair and your teeth as well."

"Is the Prime Minister visiting or what?" Kitty crossed her arms.

"No, but someone almost as important as him," came the cold reply.

"I can't wash my teeth," the girl said.

"What?"

"I don't have a toothbrush," she pointed out. "I never had a chance to pack my things before that arsehole Mandrake sent me here."

"We'll get you a toothbrush," the jailer grunted. "And a comb. You'll find everything here by the time you finish your shower. And now, go!"

Kitty didn't need to be told twice – she entered the bathroom and headed for the shower, delighted to have a chance to clean herself four days before she normally would.

As the somewhat cold water ran down her body, she wondered who that important person could be and what they could want from her. _Hmm, must be some interrogation_, she thought. Then again, why would magicians want their captives to be clean for an interrogation? Kitty had heard stories about magicians torturing commoners for information – why would they want her fresh and primp for a torturing? No matter, she wouldn't say a word. She wouldn't reveal the location of her friends to any stupid magician. She'd rather die. Dying is much better than living in a cold and dark cell where her only mates were rats…

By the time she stepped out of the shower, someone had brought her clean clothes (even though they looked old and very plain), a comb, a toothbrush with a tube of toothpaste, and for some mysterious reason a small flask full with something that smelled like medicine.

Kitty got dressed, dried and combed her hair, brushed her teeth but left the flask alone.

"Hey, you ready in there?" the jailer's voice spoke up outside.

"Yeah, I am," she answered.

The jailer entered. "Drink it up." He pointed at the flask that stood on the basin, still full with the mysterious liquid.

"Why, what is it? Poison?" Kitty asked casually.

"Do you think we would have let you shower and given you fresh clothes and _then_ poison you?"

"Well… no."

"It's an extra-strong penicillin that works within minutes," the jailer explained.

"Why would I need penicillin? I'm not ill," Kitty protested.

"For all you know, you might be carrying some disease that our guest would not be happy to contract. Go on, we haven't got all day!"

Reluctantly, Kitty uncorked the flask and downed its contents. It tasted bitter.

"And now, move!" the jailer's voice was peremptory, and with a sigh, Kitty followed him out of the bathroom, wondering who this mysterious pansy was who didn't dare meet a prisoner unless it had been force-fed some foul medicine.

They walked for about five minutes through parts of the building unknown to Kitty, until the jailer stopped before a door and gave the girl a nasty grin. "Go in there, and be careful whom you call an arsehole."

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty entered a Spartan-looking room with only a table, two chairs and walls painted an unhealthy shade of yellow. Still, it looked like an elegant salon compared to her cell or the rest of the rooms she had so far visited within the Tower. It even had a window, which seemed to be a luxury to Kitty, as her cell didn't have one. Not even a tiny one with bars – the only light that usually came into her cell came through the cracks on the heavy wooden door.

At first she didn't even notice the man standing by the window, looking outside, as his dark cloak blended with the dark curtain.

It took Kitty a few seconds to realise that her mysterious visitor was present, his hands clasped behind his back. Black hair cascaded onto his black cloak. It looked long enough to put into a ponytail, but the man (was that a man at all? – she wondered) apparently liked his hair down.

The person by the window still didn't turn around, and Kitty had another few seconds to observe his hands – those were male hands, no doubt. Long hair or not, her visitor was a man. And an important one at that.

The only 'important' person with ridiculously long hair that Kitty knew was…

"You?" she breathed as the figure turned around.

"Good day to you too, Miss Jones," said Nathaniel.

"So that's why the jailer told me not to call you an arsehole," she muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Before I entered this room, the jailer kindly advised me not to call the visitor an arsehole because earlier today I referred to you as that."

"Charming," Nathaniel replied coldly. "However, I'm not here to discuss if I'm an arsehole or not, Miss Jones."

"Then?" Kitty asked with her arms akimbo.

"Would you sit down?" Nathaniel pointed at the chairs that were at opposite ends of the table.

Kitty gave him a withering glance. "Do I have to?"

"You don't have to, but it would be more comfortable, wouldn't it?"

"As though you cared for my comfort!" she hissed. "You have no idea what 'comfort' means at the Tower, do you, Mandrake? You have no idea how 'comfortable' it is to sleep on a hard cot that you share with a dozen rats; how comfortable it is to shit into a hole in the floor, and how bloody comfortable it is to be able to take a cold shower once in every week!"

"Is the shower really cold?" Nathaniel blinked. "How ruthless." He sat down on one of the chairs, but Kitty remained standing. "Well, Miss Jones, I'm here to tell you that it is only up to you whether your current situation changes for the better or not."

"I won't betray my friends, if that's what you have in mind!" she snapped.

Nathaniel leaned back on his chair, examining the girl with an amused expression. "I never expected you to do that."

Now it was Kitty's turn to blink. "You did not?"

"No, I did not. I know you too well for that. Someone who risks her life to save her enemy from a golem isn't the type to betray her friends, no matter how long she's tortured or how big a reward she's promised. You're a loyal person, too loyal to your friends and your beliefs. Therefore I wouldn't even try to coax you into turning traitor. I know I would fail."

"Well spotted," she said sarcastically. "But, if you don't want me to betray my friends, then what – do – you - want?"

"I have a proposal for you, Kitty Jones."

The girl's eyes narrowed and she put on as hostile an expression as she could muster.

Seeing her facial reaction, he merely grinned.

How she hated that smug grin! How she hated _him_!

"What… what kind of a proposal?" she asked, feeling unnerved but determined not to show it.

His grin turned even smugger, if that was possible.

"A marriage proposal, Miss Jones."

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: review, please:)**


	3. Don't Make Promises You Cannot Keep

**A/N:** good news: I've passed my accounting exam that has been the most difficult exam in my whole life, so I feel utterly relieved and happy now. After this, I'm not a bit afraid of the rest of my exams, those will (hopefully) be a piece of cake compared to this…

In case you're interested – I drew a **coverart** for this fic. You can view it by clicking on the relevant link in my ffnet bio.

**I've replied to a few reviews, and also thanks to: _refloc, Zodokai, Saldaen farmgirl, Hello, Queen Dragon, The Thirteenth Councilor, Saiyume, Valmoer, Bowles, gremlin, azimataiji, xav, Bismillah, Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, Slytherin Daughter, BobtheFrog_**

This is the shortest chapter in the fic – I promise the rest of the chapters will be longer :)

**Chapter 3**

**Don't Make Promises You Cannot Keep**

Kitty didn't remember when she'd last laughed this hard.

"_A marriage proposal, Miss Jones."_

Of course, marriage! To John Mandrake!

She simply couldn't stop laughing. Although she'd been determined to stand upright, now she collapsed onto the vacant seat, burying her face into her hands.

Noooo, it couldn't be possible that John Mandrake actually _had_ some sense of humour!

Finally, after what must have been two or three minutes, Kitty looked up to see Mandrake looking at her darkly. "Now what?" she said, still fighting down an urge to giggle.

"You laughed at me," he said, his voice sharp, his eyes icy.

"Who wouldn't? After a joke like this… Mandrake, why don't you write comedies instead of chasing the Resistance? People would like you much more than they do now."

"I wasn't joking, Miss Jones."

Kitty blinked. He seemed sincere. A rare thing for John Mandrake. "You… weren't… joking?"

"No, I wasn't."

Kitty gaped at him for a few seconds before she found her voice again. "You… you've asked my hand in marriage?"

"I have. And I would have explained why, if you had taken me seriously."

"Take you seriously? You lost your right to be taken seriously when you went back on your promise. Remember? Ah, an angry flash of the eye. So, you _do_ remember," she said nastily. "Don't you think that the only person here who has the right to be angry is me, not you? After all, it was you, who broke your promise… but I digress. I must say I won't be taking you seriously – ever – but I'm willing to listen to your explanations, my noble suitor."

"You love annoying me, don't you?" he said with a forced smile.

"To be totally honest: I do."

"All right, let's be totally honest," Nathaniel agreed. "I don't like you any better than you like me, and it wasn't my idea to marry you, but that of the government. They decided that in order to gain the commoners' trust, we need to make concessions, like giving them a few seats in Parliament… and giving one of them a chance to marry a high-ranking Ministry official. Most commoners would be oooohing and aaahing if they saw _one of them_ getting married to _one of us_. The ministers think it would be best if a magician married someone from the Resistance, to show that we're… _forgiving_."

"The government must be in great shit if they have to take such drastic measures," Kitty observed. "And apparently they've chosen you as their stooge."

"Your lack of respect never ceases to amaze me, Miss Jones," the young magician said dryly. "Well, my offer is: if you marry me before hundreds of flashing cameras and keep smiling throughout the wedding reception, then you get to live the life of a princess. If you turn me down, you remain here for the rest of your life and you can keep smiling at the jailer and the rats. I doubt any prisoner in the Tower has ever received a more generous offer."

"That's about it? Pretend to be the happy bride and get my freedom back in return?" Kitty raised a black eyebrow at the man. "Or do you expect more... things that you aren't telling me now? Like…" she gave him a disgusted grimace, "giving you children?"

"Don't worry about that, magicians can't have children."

"No wonder, that tight pair of trousers you used to wear as a kid would make anyone impotent…"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Magicians aren't _allowed to_ have children. Therefore, if you decide to marry me, you will have to live your life without ever having a child."

"Rather that than birthing your spawn!"

"Does this mean you're accepting my offer?"

"Do I have another chance to get out of here?" she asked.

"No."

"Then I accept your offer, Mandrake," she sighed. "Heavens… _Kitty Mandrake_. Doesn't that sound horrible?"

o o o O O O o o o

The next few hours seemed a blur to Nathaniel. Accompanied by two burly guards, he drove Kitty to Whitehall where she had to sign a contract which obliged her to marry John Mandrake, stay with him until 'death parts them' (she made a grimace when reading this line in the contract) and not try to contact the Resistance ever again. In return, the government of the Empire promised her an amnesty.

After signing the contract, Nathaniel took his fiancée to her parents' home where she would be kept under house arrest until the wedding.

On his way home, Nathaniel couldn't help but grin at the memory of the Jones parents' exuberant reaction to their daughter's 'fortune', and Kitty's sour face seeing her parents' enthusiasm. Kitty's father kept bowing and reciting how unbelievably fortunate he regarded himself to become related to such a great magician, while his wife grabbed Nathaniel's hand and kissed it. The poor bride-to-be looked like someone who wanted to disappear from the face of the Earth…

As his house loomed into view, Nathaniel forced himself to stop grinning at the Jones's reaction and think of more important matters – like how to tell Jane the news. She wouldn't be charmed by it, that much was clear.

As he got out of his limousine, Nathaniel suddenly felt very tired. The shock and the nervousness that he had had to suffer throughout the day took their toll on him, and all he longed for was his bed. _His own bed_, not Jane's.

_Well, telling Jane the news can wait_, he decided, entering the house.

He ordered one of his two foliots to make a light dinner with a mug of hot milk and settled down before the television, annoyed that due to an over-enthusiastic Mrs Jones (who insisted that he stay and wait until she had his favourite cake ready) he had missed most of the news.

'…_and now, the main news headlines again. In Paris: the Mona Lisa has been stolen from the Louvre; in Bangladesh: the monsoon has destroyed houses and property, leaving thousands homeless; and here in London, it has been announced that Minister of Internal Affairs John Mandrake is to marry former Resistance leader Kathleen Jones. And now, the weather forecast…" _

Nathaniel groaned. Why couldn't those stupid ministers wait a few days before they announced the news to the media? Oh, of course, the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport had also been present at their morning discussion and at the signing of the marriage contract, and he surely alerted the press as soon as Nathaniel and Kitty left for the Jones parents' home. If only Jane hadn't watched the news… he wanted to tell her in person.

The doorbell buzzed.

The young magician had a very good idea who could be his late visitor.

"Sir, Miss Farrar wishes to speak to you," one of his foliots announced in a small voice. "May I let her enter?"

Nathaniel felt like saying 'no', but he knew it would only make things worse. _All right, let's get this over with…_ "Let Miss Farrar in," he sighed, standing up, smoothing his jacket and forcing himself to look much less sleepy than he felt.

A rather agitated Jane Farrar stormed into the living room.

"Ah, Jane, how nice to-"

"Shut up!" she hissed.

Nathaniel obediently closed his mouth. It was better not to rile her even more; she already looked ready to kill someone. He hoped it wasn't him.

"I demand an explanation!" she stamped her foot.

"Now should I shut up or give you an explanation?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

Jane's eyes narrowed. "Don't play the wise-guy, John Mandrake! Tell me: why did I have to find out the news from the TV and not from you? And what is this whole madness about you marrying a… a… nobody like that?"

"Would you like a brandy? That would help you calm down, and while you're drinking it, I could explain everything."

She gave him a piercing glance. "All right. But it better be a very good explanation!"

Nathaniel walked to the mini bar and filled a glass with brandy. He didn't drink one, as he'd just finished his milk (though he'd never admit to anyone that he liked such despicably common things as milk) and didn't want to risk an upset stomach. "Here." He handed her the glass and took a seat on the sofa opposite her. "And now, please let me tell you the whole story without interruption."

Her lips pressed firmly together, she nodded.

Nathaniel told her everything from the government's stupid idea of giving the commoners concessions to the signing of the marriage contract. "…and as you see, I'm just doing my duty towards the Empire. Nothing less and nothing more. I will marry her, give her a room in this huge house, and forget about her. She could wither away and die in her room for all I care."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed. I don't care for her, I don't need her, and most definitely don't intend to treat her as my 'wife'."

So far Jane had listened to him with a defiant expression, but upon hearing his last sentence, a small smile appeared on her face. "You don't intend to _touch _her?"

"Why would I want to dirty my hands with a commoner?" He returned her smile. "Especially when I have a wonderfully talented magician as my lover?"

Her smile widened, and noticing this, he got up and sat down on the sofa next to her, putting an arm around her. "I only want you, Jane."

As he began nibbling on her left ear (forgetting that mere minutes ago he had been terribly tired), she whispered: "Will you never touch her, John? Never touch her in ways you touched me?"

"Never," he mumbled into her neck.

"Promise?"

"Yeah, promise," he said, lowering her into a horizontal position and covering her shoulders with kisses.

Another promise he'd carelessly made.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: next chapter: the wedding, told from Kitty's point of view. And now, review, please!**


	4. Somebody Kill Me, Please

**A/N: **I'd like to thank everyone who has so far reviewed this fic. I'm getting much bigger response than I had been expecting, and it makes me so happy :) In the other two fandoms I've written fics in (Harry Potter and Artemis Fowl) most of the reviews I got were on the shorter side, but here I'm getting long, insightful, analytic reviews, and you have no idea how much that pleases me:D

I've replied to many reviews, and** also thanks to **those whose reviews I haven't replied to:** _Musica Diabolos, Coruscate Corruption, Saldaen farmgirl, AnnieThePipster, Saiyume, Maddie, Anonymous, refloc_**

**Chapter 4**

**Somebody Kill Me, Please**

Kitty was staring at her mirror image, grimacing. Every girl in her place would have been happy to wear a glorious white, lacy dress like this, a pearl necklace and tiara with a veil that sparkled as though it had been woven of ice-crystals - not to mention an engagement ring with a distastefully huge diamond in it - but Kitty wasn't happy in the least.

After all, this marriage wasn't going to be very different from being closed up in the Tower… it was going to be just another kind of imprisonment. For a month she had been kept in a dark cell, for another month under house arrest at her parents' place, and from today on she'd be living in a golden cage. She couldn't even dream of freedom.

During the one month of their 'engagement', she had only seen Mandrake twice – two weeks ago when he'd brought her this ridiculously big diamond ring, and three days ago when he'd come to check whether she had memorised and understood the letters sent to her from Whitehall, detailing the program of the wedding day. Honestly, Mandrake had come to check whether she was aware that the exchange of rings came after the I do's and the bride's first dance after the wedding dinner! As though she were a four-year-old!

Kitty's hands clenched into fists at the memory of her fiancé lecturing her how to behave properly at the wedding reception. How dare he treat her like a backward child!

"Kitty dear, the limousine's here!" Her mother entered, dressed in a lilac dress with a huge, purple, artificial flower on her shoulder. Kitty didn't want to tell her that she looked ridiculous – let her mother be happy today, at least _someone_ was happy about this wedding…

"Coming, Mum," the bride sighed, letting her veil fall before her face, looking once more around in her old room. The room was now more or less empty, as all her things had already been transported to Mandrake's house.

"Oh, Kitty, I'm so proud of you," her mother chattered away. "Getting married to such a fine gentleman! It's the greatest honour! Mrs Mandrake! What a wonderful name!"

"Mum, don't make me vomit on my wedding dress," Kitty said sharply, silencing the older woman.

Ignoring the hurt look on her mother's face, Kitty exited her room, only to spot her father who seemed the epitome of a proud father-of-the-bride. He was practically beaming in his tuxedo. He offered her his arm, and on their way down to the limousine he couldn't stop praising her dress and gushing about his future son-in-law. When she thought she could no longer take it, Kitty firmly stepped on her father's foot, then muttered a 'sorry, I'm so clumsy'. Either because the pain was too intense or because he had finally understood that Kitty had enough of 'John Mandrake this and John Mandrake that', Mr Jones spent the whole journey to Westminster Abbey in silence.

Seated between a hurt-looking mother and a wincing father, Kitty felt contented for a short period of time. It was possible that she had broken one or two of her father's toes. Well, that would at least remind him never to praise Mandrake in front of her again.

Finally, Westminster Abbey came into view and Kitty felt her heart sink into her stomach. Thousands of people were standing outside, waving, cheering and taking photos.

The limousine stopped in front of the cathedral, and in no time Kitty found herself being led down a soft, red carpet, into the building.

Memories rushed to her: memories of herself entering the abbey with her friends Stanley and Fred, Mr. Pennyfeather and several others, trying to raid Gladstone's tomb. She had been afraid then – afraid of the dark building, the spooky statues and of what they would find inside the tomb. Now the abbey looked as different as possible: warm sunshine came through its stained glass windows, painting intricate colourful patterns on the walls, the columns and the statues that looked anything but spooky this time. Not that she'd describe the building as friendly – it was far from that, but it was majestic in a way. Perhaps that's why the government had decided to have the wedding ceremony here of all churches in London.

She had been afraid all those years ago, and she would have lied to herself if she had said she wasn't afraid now. Trying to ignore the whispers of the magicians seated in the pews and the flashing of the cameras, Kitty walked down the aisle, clutching at her father's arm like her life depended on it. If only the red carpet were endless and she'd never reach the altar…

But the red carpet ended all too soon, and she found herself staring at the smugly grinning face of John Mandrake. Oh, if only she had a chance to trample on _his_ foot as well! Hmm, perhaps at the wedding reception, during a dance…

"Dearly beloved," said the priest whose face strongly reminded Kitty of an old, wizened tortoise, "we have gathered here in the sight of God to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honourable estate, instituted of God, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence, and first miracle that he wrought, in Cana of Galilee…"

Kitty yawned. _No problem, I'm wearing a veil, no one has seen it…_

"… to be honourable among all men: and there is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites-"

_Yeah, of course, because John Mandrake isn't a wanton, lustful person_, Kitty rolled her eyes. She had heard about her fiancé's relationship to a certain Miss Farrar and doubted that he would give up his relationship just because he's getting married to her…

"…and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which matrimony was ordained. First, it was ordained for the procreation of children…"

_Of course, if it weren't for the fact that magicians aren't allowed to make babies… wonder how they prevent conception,_ Kitty mused.

"…and to the praise of his holy Name. Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication, that such persons as have not the gift of continency might marry-"

_Mandrake and the gift of continency!_ – Kitty had to force herself not to snort.

"…undefiled members of Christ's body. Thirdly, it was ordained for the mutual society, help and comfort…"

Imagine Mandrake comforting someone… 

"…both in prosperity and adversity. Into which holy estate these two persons present come to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace."

_Someone, speak up, please!_ – Kitty thought desperately.

No one spoke.

_Dang it._

The priest continued. "Answer me, John, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Mandrake gave Kitty a grimace, and said: "I will."

_Yeah, of course!_ – the bride fumed. _Lying in the church, don't you feel ashamed?_

"And you, Kathleen, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

_Do I have to?_ She sighed. _Okay, Kitty, he lied, you can lie too. Go on, you can do it!_ "I will."

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?"

"I do," said Mr Jones.

Now Mandrake turned to Kitty with a lopsided grin and began to repeat after the priest, "I, John Mandrake, take thee, Kathleen Jones, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

_Big words and they mean nothing_, Kitty thought bitterly. _Okay, my turn._

"I, Kathleen Jones, take thee, John Mandrake, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth."

A little boy – probably a magician apprentice – came forward, carrying a cushion with two rings. Kitty dejectedly held out her hand for Mandrake to place the ring on her finger (she shuddered as his hand touched hers), and she quickly slipped the other ring on his finger.

"Hereby, with the power bestowed upon me by God, I pronounce you husband and wife," the priest concluded. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. You may kiss the bride."

_Kiss?_ – Kitty's insides froze. She had read the official text of the Anglican wedding ceremony, and there hadn't been a mention of a kiss in there…

She glanced at Mandrake, and saw that he was grinning nastily. _If **you** put that into the ceremony to annoy me, I'll kill you, Mandrake_, she thought as he lifted her veil.

"Do we really have to?" she mouthed to him.

"Yes," he mouthed back.

"Then be quick. And just a little peck!"

"All right." He leaned closer and she pressed her lips firmly together, to give him as little access to her mouth as possible. Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited for the most unpleasant experience in her life. What surprised her was that it wasn't at all unpleasant. Despite his cold looks, his lips were soft and warm, and she didn't really mind that they lingered on her lips a bit longer than they should have for a 'peck'.

_Have you gone mad, woman?_ – she screamed at herself once the kiss was over. _It was horrible, despicable, and disgusting! Wasn't it?_

Before she knew, Mandrake had gently but deliberately grabbed her arm and started dragging her down the red carpet, towards the entrance while the church organ began to play and a choir that Kitty couldn't even see began singing 'Hallelujah'.

Even though some light had come into the building through the stained glass windows, now that they had left the church, Kitty had to blink against the blinding sunshine.

The commoners' cheers quickly suppressed the sound of the church organ and the choir. Kitty tried to force a smile on her face, remembering that she was supposed to look like a happy bride. It was a hard task, though, because her lips rather felt like making a pout. Finally, when she managed a smile, her eyes met that of a boy in the crowd. It was a little boy around twelve, named Jeremy. She knew him from the Resistance.

_Oh, no_, she moaned inwardly.

Jeremy's face radiated sadness, disgust and his eyes were blazing in a way that suggested he was blaming Kitty for having agreed to this madness.

And truth be told, Kitty too was blaming herself. Perhaps she should have stayed in the Tower, withering away in a dirty cell, instead of putting on this show to the whole Empire…

At this moment she thought she'd never felt this bad before. Not even when Jakob had suffered those horrible injuries thanks to Tallow's demon, not even when she'd been chased by Honorius the afrit. At least she'd been brave then, her head held up, standing up to the magicians. And now? She felt she'd lost her self-respect. She'd lost everything to John Mandrake.

Before she got into the limousine, her eyes met that of a girl in the crowd – another Resistance member. She too was eyeing her with a defiant, accusatory glance.

_Somebody kill me, please_, Kitty thought desperately as Mandrake pushed her into the car.

Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out the outside world – to forget about the cheering crowd, the nasty glances of her one-time Resistance fellows, and most of all: forget about the fact that she was sitting next to John Mandrake, _her husband_.

"You could have waved at people from the car window, you know," the man spoke up next to her, shaking her back into reality.

"I'm not a queen or princess to wave at my underlings," she replied coldly, deliberately staring out the window, not meeting his eyes.

"Many people regard you as one," Mandrake replied casually. "For the mob, you're now like a noble lady. Like someone they can only dream of becoming. Everyone envies you, Kitty."

At the mention of her name, she turned around to flash him with a furious glance. "I'm not exactly enviable, having to live the rest of my life with _you_! And don't you dare call my people 'mob' or you'll get acquainted with my fist once again! I hope you still remember your first encounter with it!"

"As if I could ever forget that…" he replied with a sour face.

Feeling a little better, Kitty again turned away from him to watch the trees flash by. They had left the downtown area of London and were now travelling across the district where the richest – obviously all of them magicians – lived.

Soon they arrived at the park of an immense house that Kitty immediately knew was the residence of none other than Rupert Deveraux.

"It was most generous of the Prime Minister to let us use his ballroom for the wedding reception," Mandrake said as the car stopped. "And I expect you to behave accordingly – to show our gratitude towards him."

"I will be as polite as possible, but don't expect me to start licking his boots," she replied impassively and deliberately did not take his hand when he offered it to help her out of the limousine. "By the way, how come the wedding reception didn't take place in _your_ house? Is the place not big and pompous enough, you poor, underpaid magician?"

"In a few hours you will see for yourself whether it's big and pompous enough, and just for your information – I'm completely satisfied with my salary."

"Indeed?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Strange. You strike me as a man who's never satisfied with his position. I hope some day you try to launch a coup to get Deveraux's place and fail miserably. A few years in the Tower would do you good."

His eyes narrowed and he grabbed her arm and started pulling her (this time not a bit gently) towards the entrance. "Enough of this madness, Kathleen! And don't you dare talk about coups before any magician, or-"

"Or what?" She gave him a challenging look.

"Or you'll regret it as long as you live," he hissed. "And now, move, and be a good girl. You don't need to lick anyone's boots, just be polite enough so that you don't bring shame on me."

"Don't worry, Mandrake, I will be a perfect lady," Kitty said with a withering glance and entered the building with her husband.

o o o O O O o o o

The wedding reception was so dull that Kitty felt like falling asleep and had to fight hard to suppress her yawns. First Deveraux made a long and boring speech about the importance of building relationships between magicians and commoners, then Kitty's father toasted the new couple, but as Kitty had feared, his speech quickly turned from wishing the bride and groom all the happiness in the world to expressing his immense gratitude to the magician society for allowing his only daughter into their circles.

_Apparently I hadn't trampled on his foot hard enough_, Kitty thought sourly as a pretty woman in her early twenties rose to say the next toast.

"John has been a very good friend of mine for years," she began, and at first Kitty didn't understand why some magicians around started to snigger. "I know him inside out, and I can say that he's not only a wonderful magician, but a perfect gentleman and very able lover as well. You're a lucky woman, Kathleen to have someone like him to warm your bed every night. I wish you two all the happiness in the world!"

Some magicians applauded, some laughed, but the bride couldn't hear them – she sat dumbstruck, gazing at the woman who was currently giving her a cold, patronising smile.

_So, that was Jane Farrar_, Kitty concluded. _What an arrogant, malevolent harpy!_ She did this to humiliate Kitty, in front of a huge hall full of magicians, all of whom knew about her relationship to the groom.

Kitty glanced at her husband, who seemed to be downright amused by the latest toast.

Wipe that stupid smirk off your face! 

Seeing his wife's dark expression, Mandrake's smirk widened even more.

All right, you asked for it… 

For the first time that day, Kitty was grateful for the otherwise terribly uncomfortable high-heeled, pointy shoes she was forced to wear. The tip was just perfect to kick somebody in the shin under the table…

"Are you all right, John?" an old minister asked worriedly as the groom doubled over, cross-eyed.

"Ye…yes," Mandrake mumbled through clenched teeth. "Stomach ache… must have eaten… a bit more of the wedding cake… than I should have…"

"Yes, John has always had a huge appetite," Jane Farrar said, sensuously licking her lips. "In all areas…"

Apparently Kitty's well-aimed kick had done its work, because this time Mandrake didn't dare send his lover a grin.

The bride cast a side-ways glance at her new husband to see that he was avoiding both her and Jane's eyes, and his teeth still seemed to be clenched. Satisfied with her aiming, Kitty rose to her feet and cleared her throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I'm not sure it is my place to say a toast at my own wedding, but I feel it is my duty to say thanks to all the wonderful magicians who made this marriage possible."

Mandrake next to her stopped doubling over and was now gazing up at her with a shocked expression. Feeling encouraged by his facial reaction, Kitty continued.

"I feel very happy that you finally realised that us, commoners are your equals. I will do everything in my power to prove that I'm a wife worthy of a great magician like my dearest John." She gave Jane Farrar a withering glance, then turned to her husband. "To start proving my abilities, I'd like to show you my dancing skills. Sweetheart, would you give me the first dance?"

Mandrake blinked a few times, too shocked to respond. After a few seconds, some ministers and their jewel-packed wives started encouraging him to go and dance, and Kitty held out her hand towards him with the sweetest smile he'd ever seen on her face.

Wincing, he got up and led his wife onto the dance floor. To Kitty's utter delight, it seemed that every step caused him great pain.

The orchestra began to play one of Strauss's waltzes, and Kitty leaned closer to her husband, whispering into his ear. "Your leg hurts, honey?"

"You know it does, you evil witch," he murmured back.

"This is what you get for trying to humiliate me in front your kind," she whispered, slightly leaning back to give him a radiant smile.

His eyes narrowed. "We'll see who wins this war, Kitty."

"You're limping and winching… this means I've won this battle at least."

"The battle perhaps. But not the war," he replied, and forced a smile on his face. Let everyone believe he was enjoying the dance, even though every step he made was a torture.

o o o O O O o o o

It was past midnight when they arrived back at their house. _Their house_ – the thought filled Kitty with both disgust and excitement. She had never spent the night in a magician's house before. She just hoped that she would get to spend the night alone in her room and Mandrake wouldn't make any advances. If he did, he'd just kick him in the shin again. Or, a bit higher this time…

"Well, does it look big and pompous enough for you?" Mandrake asked as they entered the building. Kitty was greeted by a huge entrance hall, on both sides of which a marble staircase led upstairs. In the middle hung an enormous crystal chandelier.

"Swarovski," the man said, noticing that she was observing the chandelier.

"What?"

"Each crystal on the chandelier comes from Swarovski. It cost me a small fortune, but it was worth it. The stairs are marble from Carrara, and the carpets are real Persian ones. I'd prefer if you never entered the house with mud-stained boots, or if you do, you should take them off here, before you step on the carpet."

"What makes you think I'm the type to dirty the carpets with mud-stained boots?" She crossed her arms.

He shrugged. "You strike me as the type who doesn't care for looks – her looks or the looks of her home."

Kitty's eyes narrowed. "You don't like my choice of clothes?"

"Well, you have to admit that the ones you usually wear are pathetic… As my wife, you are expected to dress properly and forsake the baggy pairs of jeans and the loose t-shirts."

"I dress as I please! It wasn't in the marriage contract that I have to throw my wardrobe away!"

The man rolled his eyes. "I'm too tired to have a row with you right now, so come on. I'm showing you your room."

Kitty followed him upstairs.

"I hope you will find the room satisfying," Mandrake said, leading her through several corridors. "It's better than any place you've ever slept in…"

Kitty decided to ignore the insult.

The house was indeed huge and it took them five minutes to reach the door of her intended room. "Well, this is where you're going to sleep." He opened the door for her, motioning her to enter.

"But I hope _you_ aren't," she replied.

"Don't worry, your virginity is safe with me."

"What makes you think I'm…?"

"Just look at you. It's quite obvious, Kitty," he said in a condescending manner. "But really, no need to worry. I won't take it, as long as _you_ don't ask me to."

"You can wait for that as long as you live!" she snapped.

"Hah! So you _are_ indeed a virgin," he chuckled. "You've given yourself away!"

"Get stuffed," she murmured and marched into her room, banging the door shut behind her.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: hope you liked it. Review, please!**


	5. This Means War

**A/N: over a hundred reviews for four chapters? Wow. I feel loved. Thank you so much, and please, continue being so responsive!**

**This chapter contains some strong T-rated material. Remember what I wrote at the beginning of chapter one? This fic isn't for children under 13, I mean it.**

**As we don't know what a parliamentary session is like in Stroud's world (at least there was none in the first two books), I assumed it was pretty much like in the British Parliament. My beta Michael, who's British, helped me with that. Thanks a bunch, Michael, and also for your help with the 'law talk' in this chapter and in later chapters as well.**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Kaeliian, BobtheFrog, Zodokai, Astrensi, Queen Dragon, Deaces, Saldaen farmgirl, AnnieThePipster, gremlin, azimataiji, Jennie, refloc, Four Strings, Soccer101, Saiyume_**

**Chapter 5**

**This Means War**

It was already eleven a.m. by the time Nathaniel woke up. Today he could afford to lie in – it was Sunday, after all. A very warm Sunday to boot – he checked the thermometer fixed to the outside of his bedroom window to see that it showed 30 Celsius. Perfect weather for a nice swim.

He washed, pulled on a pair of swimming trunks and headed downstairs. In the kitchen he ordered one of his foliots – the female one named Bella - to make him a cup of strong coffee. Bella wasn't exactly a belle (in fact she belonged to the ugliest creatures ever existed) but Nathaniel insisted that she always appear for him like a maid on at least the first four planes.

Balancing the cup of coffee on its saucer, he headed for the pool. After a nice swim, he might as well knock on his wife's door to ask whether she wanted the grand tour – after all, he had barely shown her a few corridors of the house last night.

He couldn't help it, his mouth tucked into a grin upon remembering his last discussion with Kitty. Oh, that fiery temper! Most of the time he found her total lack of respect disturbing, but sometimes her cheek felt downright refreshing. The last person to dare talk back to him like that had been Bartimaeus… _if_ a djinni could be considered a person, that is…

Nathaniel was sure that he'd never be bored as long as Kitty lived in this house. Although he didn't want to admit it to himself, he almost looked forward to some more bantering with her.

Peacefully sipping his coffee, he left the house through the back door, his thoughts no longer on his wife, but on a relaxing swim in his enormous pool where no one ever dared disturb him...

Problem was that someone was already in the pool.

That someone didn't notice him, because she was currently sunning her dripping face with closed eyes, her hands trying to sweep her long, black hair behind her back to give the sunrays better access to her chest.

Nathaniel dropped the saucer.

Hearing the clatter, Kitty opened her eyes to see her husband grabbing his crotch on which he had apparently spilled a cup of hot, steaming coffee.

"Are you all right?" she asked, biting into her lower lip, as she couldn't decide whether to look concerned or burst out laughing. He must have been in great pain, and horribly embarrassed as well, because his face was turning redder by the second. "Um, perhaps you'd like to hop into the water? Cold might be good for… burns."

Without a word, Nathaniel ran towards the pool and jumped into it.

Kitty waited and waited for him to resurface, and when she almost started to worry that he'd drowned, he suddenly burst to the surface right next to her, his face no longer contorted with pain but anger. "How dare you come out here dressed like… _this_?" he spluttered, pointing at the bra she was wearing.

"No one saw me, and it was so hot that I had to do something to cool off," she replied coldly. "Besides, I don't see what your problem is with my clothing!"

"This _isn't_ a swimsuit," he pointed out. "You're wearing a bra and knickers, Kitty! White ones! White ones that become… _see-through_ once they get wet!"

"Oh… I didn't realise that," she replied, looking down at herself. "Hmm… really. Well, don't look if you don't want to."

"I definitely don't want to!" he snapped, looking away. "You don't own a swimsuit, do you?"

"No, I don't. The last time I had one that actually fit me was around age ten… I haven't had time and opportunity to swim since then."

"Right." Nathaniel said gruffly, climbing out of the pool. "Tomorrow, you're going shopping. You're going to buy decent clothes. Elegant ones. And you may buy a swimsuit as well if you want to. A _one-piece_ swimsuit, Kitty. And to make sure that you don't get lost in London, Bella will accompany you."

"I never get lost in London," she replied sharply. "And who's Bella?"

"Bella's my female foliot. I expect she's got a much better taste in clothing than you do, so you'd better listen to her advice when you buy your new wardrobe. I don't want you to spend my money on new pairs of jeans and t-shirts. As for you getting lost in London… I was referring to the Resistance," he said with a nasty expression. "Bella will accompany you to make sure you don't get tempted to go and contact them."

Kitty knitted her eyebrows. "I signed that contract, remember? In that I agreed not to try to look for them ever again."

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but I have no reason to trust you," Nathaniel replied, then clapped twice. In the next instant a middle-aged woman appeared out of nowhere. She wore a maid's dress and a pair of glasses. "Bella, clear up this mess. And tomorrow, you're going to accompany Mrs Mandrake to London to buy her new wardrobe. Remind me in the evening to give you some money."

"Are you leaving now, Sir?" the foliot asked, bending to gather the pieces of the broken cup and saucer.

"Yes," Nathaniel said, giving his wife a sneer. "I'm going to visit Miss Farrar. I no longer feel like swimming."

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty stared after her husband, frowning. She simply couldn't figure him out. Was he mad because she could have been spotted by the neighbours in such a skimpy outfit, or because _he_ had had to spot her dressed like this? Had she been imagining his embarrassment? And if not, then _why_ was he embarrassed? Because he'd spilled the coffee on himself or because the reason for himself spilling the coffee had been that he'd spotted her looking like this?

The more she thought about it, the more confused she felt. After all, if he didn't want anyone else to see her like this, then it meant he was at least a bit possessive of her. And if he had been mad because she had appeared in front of him in such a possibly arousing outfit…

_Could he be aroused… by **me**?_ – she wondered. The thought brought an evil little smile on her face. If he indeed found her attractive, then abstinence would make him go mad within a short period of time.

_Abstinence?_ – she savoured the word. _No. He's far from abstinent. He's doing it with that trollop Jane Farrar, and he doesn't need me if **she** can give her what I'm unwilling to. He can go frolicking with whomever he wants, I couldn't care less! Yeah, why **should** I care for such a stupid, self-important, handsome, athletic… Now wait a second! Handsome? Mandrake? A slug would be more handsome! And athletic? Well… he did have nice broad shoulders and fine muscles, and…_

"Heavens, what am I thinking?" she groaned. "He's a jerk! An arsehole! Hey, does anyone hear me? MY HUSBAND IS AN ARSEHOLE!"

Since Mandrake's garden was huge, the neighbours' houses were far off, and therefore she doubted anyone could have heard her. Perhaps save Bella and her male foliot companion. Kitty hoped that they would tell their master in the evening what she'd called him. Mandrake was the type of person who needed to hear the fact that he was an arsehole at least a dozen times before it sunk in and another dozen times before he realised that it was true.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel drove the limousine towards Jane's house, thinking about pretty much anything but Jane. The thoughts that kept popping into his mind were Kitty; his still slightly sore shinbone; Kitty; the American spies he was supposed to catch; Kitty; Deveraux's stupid idea of giving the commoners seats in Parliament; and Kitty.

_How dare she do this to me?_ – he fumed. _Prancing in my garden dressed like a scarlet woman! What would the neighbours think if they spotted her like that?_

He focused on the back of the turquoise Ford Anglia waiting in the queue in front of him, to take his thoughts off his painfully throbbing body-parts. Stupid coffee.

What most annoyed him was the fact that it actually bothered him that someone could have spotted Kitty today. _Why should I care? She's just like any woman, and all the neighbours know enough anatomy to not be surprised by the sight… _But why did it make his stomach clench when he thought about anyone else but him seeing her like that? Why?

_Nathaniel, Nathaniel, stop this! Okay, you found her arousing. So what? You'd find any other woman arousing if they revealed as much of themselves as she did!_ But then… why didn't he feel angry whenever he felt aroused by Jane? Why only with Kitty?

He felt downright relieved when Jane's house loomed into view – finally he could focus on the thought of spending a lovely afternoon with his girlfriend, forgetting about his wife.

o o o O O O o o o

"John, how nice to see you!" Jane let him in with a radiant smile.

_Strange_, he thought, _why do I find Jane's smile forced all of a sudden? _– he mused._ Had her smiles been forced earlier as well, I just hadn't noticed?_

"I hope you had a good night's sleep," Jane said, leading him into the living room, and Nathaniel had a feeling that she was hinting at something. Did she want him to swear that he hadn't spent the wedding night with his wife? Well, if she wanted to hear it, she'd have to ask outright.

"Yes, thanks. I hope I'm not disturbing."

"You know that you never disturb," she cooed, pulling him down on the sofa and encircling his neck with her arms. She kissed him deeply, and as she started to unbutton his shirt, he caught her hand.

"Not now."

"Why not?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Because I don't think I could… perform right now," he looked away embarrassedly.

"Having problems with 'Little John'?" Jane ran her finger down his chest, making him shudder.

"Let's just say that 'Little John' is a bit… um… tender at the moment."

Jane pulled back a bit. "I hope this doesn't mean that 'Little John' was doing something with 'Maid Marian' last night?"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, 'Maid Marian' is the same virgin she used to be before the wedding. 'Little John' suffered a small accident."

"What, fell into the river?" She cocked her head with a challenging look.

"No. Into the pool. Or rather, jumped."

She blinked. "I don't think I understand a word, John."

He heaved a sigh. "My wife. She was putting on a peep show for the neighbours and I was so shocked when I saw her that I spilled a cup of hot coffee on 'Little John'. Then jumped into the pool to ease the pain. That's the story."

Jane silently scrutinised his face for a few seconds. "You're blushing, John."

"Just the weather. It's hot."

"Are you sure it's not the memory of your wife's… er… how did you put it… 'peep show'?"

"Oh, come on, Jane, how could a commoner like her make me blush?" He put his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "Besides, she was ugly."

"You know what?" Jane purred, "I have a lotion that works wonders… it could heal 'Little John' within a few minutes. Let me take things into my hands…" With a wink she slid off the sofa and hurried out of the salon. Staring after her, Nathaniel wondered why he wasn't exactly looking forward to her taking 'things' into her hands.

o o o O O O o o o

It was late in the afternoon when Nathaniel arrived back at his house. He wasn't in a particularly good mood. Jane's lotion had completely healed him, but he couldn't fully enjoy the time he'd spent in her arms. Most annoyingly, whenever he started to enjoy himself a bit, Kitty's scantily clad body appeared before his mind's eyes and he felt a wave of shame wash over him – both because he knew he was committing adultery, and because he couldn't help wondering what _it_ could be like with Kitty.

Jane had even told him with an accusatory glance that his mind hadn't been on the 'task'. And indeed, it hadn't been. Today Nathaniel had acted like a machine – he did things without paying attention to them. When they parted, Jane had appeared rather displeased.

Nathaniel too was displeased with himself. Both because he had disappointed Jane and because he couldn't suppress the nagging pangs of remorse. He didn't remember when he'd last felt pangs of remorse – perhaps when he'd gone back on the promise he'd made to Kitty all those years ago? Well, after all, what he'd done in the afternoon had only been another broken promise… _Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, **forsaking all other**, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?_ He had answered 'I will'to the priest.

Chewing his lower lip, Nathaniel walked into the garden. _Why do I care? I didn't really mean it when I said 'I will'. Kitty too knew that I didn't mean it, and she didn't mean it either when she said it. It's all a big show, nothing else…_

_But you have lied to the priest, Nathaniel_, the voice of his conscience spoke up. _You lied to God, if he exists at all. And to Kitty – again. What would Mrs Underwood think of you if she saw you now? _

Nathaniel felt like kicking something. He hated it when that nasty little voice in his mind reminded him that Mrs Underwood – the woman who had been the closest thing to a mother he had ever had – wouldn't approve of certain things he was doing. Despite the fact that he'd almost completely become 'John Mandrake', there were still small vestiges of 'Nathaniel' left in him, and these vestiges kept nagging him from time to time. When he'd thought that he'd finally managed to silence his old self for good, Kitty Jones had come into his life once again, blowing on the embers of 'Nathaniel'.

The young magician was afraid. Afraid that those embers might burst into flames, ruining everything he had built so far, turning the self-conscious, balanced John Mandrake back into pathetic little Nathaniel. He didn't think he could take it. He couldn't become weak because of a woman whom he didn't even know, who only scared him, confused him, annoyed him… and aroused him!

He stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted her. Again oblivious to his presence, she was sitting in a deck-chair by the pool, reading something. Apparently she had taken his advice on not prancing around in bra and knickers, and was now wearing a pair of tiny shorts with a small top. Her bare legs were crossed and she kept swinging one of them.

For a few seconds he just stood there, rooted to the spot, holding his breath. Suddenly, she let out a chuckle. As if woken from a trance, Nathaniel shuddered.

"What's so funny?" he spoke up, his voice as impassive as ever.

Kitty looked at him over the top of her book. She looked surprised to see him. "Back already?" she said coldly. "I thought you'd spend the night at Miss… What's-Her-Name-Again's place."

"It's Jane Farrar, and no, I'm not spending the night at her place. What're you reading?"

She put a piece of paper into the book to mark the page she'd been reading, then held out the book towards him.

He took it. "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets," he read out loud. "Some stupid children's book, isn't it?"

"Children's book, but not stupid," she replied sharply. "I asked Dad to buy the whole series for me while I was under house arrest. Without these books I would have died of boredom – and of the thought of having to marry you."

With a grimace, Nathaniel shoved the book back into her hand. She immediately opened it where she'd bookmarked it and continued reading as though she hadn't been interrupted at all.

For a few seconds he watched her, seething. _How dare she ignore me! The cheeky little…_

Suddenly, Kitty began to chuckle again. "I can never read this part without laughing!"

So, she hadn't forgotten he was present, Nathaniel noted. She was just being deliberately impolite.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

"It says '_the cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it'_," she read out, squinting up at him. "And this: '…_a small, muddy and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin…_' This is how Rowling describes a Mandrake." She gave him an appraising stare, sizing him up from head to toe. "Now that I think of it, she gave a rather thorough description…"

"First: I'm not crying, second: I don't have leaves growing out of my head, third: I'm not green!"

"Yes, you are," she replied, standing up to leave. "You look rather green, John. What has upset your stomach?"

"You have! And just for your information, you too are a _Mandrake _now! Tell you what, this Rowling was right: you **_are_** _extremely ugly_."

With a swift but deliberate move, Kitty pushed him into the pool. Fully dressed.

"You know, this means war!" he shouted at her.

"Did I just hear the cry of a Mandrake?" she sent him a smirk, heading towards the house with her copy of Chamber of Secrets.

o o o O O O o o o

Monday morning Nathaniel was sipping his coffee and reading _The Times_, trying to ignore the fact that Kitty had entered the kitchen and was humming happily while making an omelette for herself. It was really hard for him to ignore her, and not only because she was humming '_We are the champions'_, but because she also kept giving him superior glances accompanied with smirks.

"I see you're wearing a navy suit today," she said, flopping down at the table opposite him. "What happened to your favourite black one?"

"It got wet," he replied dryly, not even looking up from his newspaper.

"Got caught in a downpour?" she asked innocently.

"Rather got attacked by a harpy," he grunted.

"Do I know her?"

He gave him a dark look, but didn't comment. After a few seconds he spoke up: "So, where are you going today with Bella?"

"She says Harridges is the most elegant department store in London with a huge clothes department," Kitty replied through a mouthful of omelette.

"I agree with her, Harridges is indeed the best. I gave her enough money to buy you a wardrobe that even the Duchess of Westminster would envy. And before you get the wrong idea – I'm not being this generous because _you_ deserve it. I'm doing it because _I_ deserve to have a decently dressed wife." With that he dropped _The Times_ on the table and left without so much as saying good-bye.

o o o O O O o o o

"Morning, Ffoukes," Nathaniel greeted the older man upon entering the Chamber in Parliament.

"Good morning, John," Ffoukes replied with a hearty smile. "How're you enjoying married life?"

Nathaniel made a grimace as he slid into his seat next to Ffoukes. "Don't even ask, that woman is a real witch."

Ffoukes chuckled. "A witch _in_ bed or _outside_ bed?"

The young magician made a sour face. "If only I _knew_ what she was like in bed…"

The other man raised an eyebrow at him. "She's the unwilling type, huh?"

"Unwilling is an understatement." Nathaniel waved. "She's downright dangerous, so I wouldn't risk my life trying to get into her knickers… And after all, I have Jane. I don't _need_ my wife in that respect."

"You don't, eh?" Ffoukes grinned. "Don't lie to me _and_ yourself, John. You love a challenge, and taming this woman will be quite the challenge for you."

"Problem is, I'm not sure who's taming whom in this relationship," Nathaniel muttered under his breath as Rupert Deveraux entered the Chamber, bowed almost imperceptibly to the Speaker, and took his seat on the front bench.

"I wonder what today's business is," Ffoukes said.

"Something about magician apprentices, I gather," Nathaniel replied, glancing at his order paper.

The Speaker called "Order! The Prime Minister!"

Deveraux stood and cleared his throat. "With permission, Madam Speaker, I would like to move the Second Reading of the Bill to amendment the Magical Apprenticeships Act, 1879, Section 149(b) and Schedule VI. My right honourable friend, the Secretary of State for Work and Pensions, has all the details."

The Secretary of State, Mr James Sullivan, a tiny, thin and balding man stood up. "Madam Speaker, Prime Minister, Ministers, Members of Parliament," he began, "as you all know, we have been having problems with acquiring apprentices for years. Ever since people started supporting the Resistance, fewer and fewer couples decide to give up their children to become a magician, despite the huge sum of money they are promised in return. If this tendency continues, soon we will be left without a next generation of magicians that would inevitably result in the end of our rule in the Empire. Commoners would without a doubt manage to seize power from a magician generation that is small and weak. We cannot let that happen. Therefore, I have an amend-"

"Is the situation with apprentices really this grave?" Nathaniel whispered to Ffoukes. "I had no idea. Then again, I haven't yet bothered with acquiring an apprentice – I will postpone it as long as I can."

"What, you don't like children, John?" Ffoukes smirked.

"Phhh. They give me the creeps," the young magician replied as Sullivan tapped the microphone that seemed to be having technical problems.

"Wonder why Pattinson doesn't try to help Sully with the microphone," Ffoukes remarked.

"Pattinson might be Minister of Technology, but I doubt he knows how to switch on a laptop, let alone repair a microphone," Nathaniel sniggered. "Amateurs."

Finally a clerk arrived to fix the microphone so that Sullivan could continue his speech. "As I've said, I have this proposal. Why not take our apprentices from the orphanages in the future? Each magician above twenty-five should have the right to claim an orphan of their own choice as their apprentice. The child, of course, has to be at least five when he or she becomes an apprentice – in this respect the law should not be changed. Accordingly, I beg to move the Second Reading of this Bill."

The Ministers and Members of Parliament cheered politely.

Deveraux again cleared his throat. "And now, it is time to put the matter to the vote in order to… er, excuse me. My secretary's calling." He fished his madly ringing mobile phone out of his breast pocket. For a few seconds he seemed to be listening to his secretary with an impassive expression, then suddenly blanched.

"Looks bad," Nathaniel murmured to Ffoukes. "Wonder what happened…"

The Prime Minister ended the call, his face still as white as a sheet. "Terrorist attack at Piccadilly," he said in a wavering voice. "Several buildings were destroyed by a bomb that exploded in Harridges Department Store."

"Harridges?" Nathaniel gasped and jumped to his feet. "Excuse me. I, as the Minister of Internal Affairs…"

With that he stormed out of the Chamber.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: Nat's getting worried about her… ;) **

The reason for using Ffoukes as Nat's friend: I wanted a character from Stroud's world to be his friend, and I wanted someone who was barely ever mentioned in the books and whom we barely know. This way I had a chance to form his personality to my liking, and I really like the Ffoukes I 'forced' him to be… yeah, he might have stolen something from a minister in Golem, but who says he can't be a nice guy all the same? He _will_ be a nice guy ;)

**Be so kind and review! (Ffnet seems to have a problem with submitting reviews right now – it keeps repeating 'review throttle' – it seems to me that you need to be logged in already when you click on 'submit review' otherwise ffnet won't let you…)**


	6. Lead Us Not Into Temptation

**A/N: I know ffnet had a bug when I uploaded chapter 5 and no one could review then. I'd like to thank everyone who came back to review even days after you read the chapter. You people rock!**

**I made an illustration for chapter 4, about Nat and Kitty's wedding. You can view the pic by clicking on the relevant link in my ffnet bio :) (I will be posting more illustrations there later – currently I have another four or five… but I will only post those when I have already posted the chapters they are based on :) Also, a friend – Ginger-Wolfy - on deviantart illustrated Nat's 'pool-surprise' from chapter 5 – I linked that one into my bio too (hilarious little comic, IMHO).**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Hello, Aiko Moonchild, Queen Dragon, Deaces, xav (have a look at the coverart, xav, it will answer your question), Astrensi, swordsrock, Sofie, Rekhyt, ladyaymie_**

**WARNING: this is another strong T-rated chapter. Nat is a naughty boy…**

**Chapter 6**

**Lead Us Not Into Temptation**

Nathaniel's heart was thumping so hard and fast that he thought it wanted to jump out of his chest. He kept glancing at his watch every five seconds, nervously tapping the steering wheel. He had to fight down the urge to hop out of his limousine and walk to Piccadilly, since it seemed he might have got there quicker on foot.

_Leave the car?_ – He was surprised that such a thing even came to his mind. This car had cost him a small fortune! He couldn't just leave it in the middle of the London traffic!

_But it's about your wife, _a little voice in his head reminded him.

_So what? Why should I care? Shouldn't I be happy if she died in that building? She's just a burden, a duty that Deveraux and his smart-arse friends put on my shoulders – she's something I never asked for and never wanted! I **should** be happy if I found her dead by the time I arrived there!_

_But why **don't** I feel a bit happy at the prospect of seeing her dead?_ Nathaniel's throat clenched at the thought of finding Kitty's lifeless body among the ruins. _What is this woman doing to me? It's been only two days since we got married, and she's turned my life upside down already! Arggh, to hell with the limo!_

He got out of the car, slammed its door shut and began running through the crowd towards Piccadilly. The closer he got to his destination, the more people were swarming around, clearly curious to see the devastation.

At Piccadilly, the sirens of the ambulance and police cars were almost deafening, and Nathaniel wished he had brought a pair of earplugs. The closer he got to the ruins of Harridges, the more he needed to blink and cough in the smoke. His eyes were watering, and he kept reciting that it was _only_ due to the smoke. The Minister of Internal Affairs did not cry. He was tough and impassive and, if needed, merciless. He had seen enough devastation in his short life not to be moved by other people's misery. But what about his own?

_Miserable? Me?_ – He shuddered at the thought. Smoothing his cloak, he stepped to the closest policeman.

"Report to me," he said in a demanding voice.

The policeman seemed to recognise him immediately. "Explosion happened twenty-five minutes ago, Sir. Three buildings seriously, five lightly damaged by the explosion – apart from Harridges, of course, that is - as you see, Sir - completely levelled. The firemen and several djinn are trying to get into the ruins, but they've only found seven dead people and one dead imp so far. In all honesty, Sir, it would be a miracle if anyone survived."

Nathaniel nodded, a lump rising in his throat. The policeman was right – judging by the looks of Harridges, it would indeed be a miracle if Kitty were still alive. _This must have been one of the shortest marriages in living memory_, he thought bitterly. _I bet Jane will be happy when she finds out I'm a widower already…_

"And the dead… where did the firemen take them?"

"There, Sir." The policeman pointed at a traffic island where a lump stood, covered with black foil.

His heart thumping in his throat, Nathaniel approached the lump. Another policeman was standing next to the heap, and the young Minister motioned him to lift the foil just enough to uncover the faces of the dead they had found so far.

Kitty wasn't among them.

Something started bouncing excitedly in Nathaniel's chest – was it _hope_?

At least an hour passed, and more and more dead – both people and demons - were discovered under the ruins. The first survivor was a four-year-old boy who, thanks to his small size, had been found wedged between three big chunks of fallen concrete. Not much later an old lady was found in a rather bad shape, but according to the doctors who examined her as soon as she was freed from the rubble, she would be all right in a few weeks.

Hope that had awoken in Nathaniel's heart shrunk rapidly, and self-accusation grew by the minute. He was mad at himself that he _cared_ about Kitty's well-being. For a second he even thought it was _his_ fault if she died – after all _he_ insisted that her wardrobe was unworthy of a Minister's wife. Had he not been so damn proud…

At that moment a fireman appeared, supporting a thin, soot-covered figure. Her legs were wobbly, but she seemed to have got only a few small scratches.

For a few seconds Nathaniel just stood, rooted to the spot. Half of him wanted to run to her and gather her into his arms, but the other half – the proud and arrogant John Mandrake – held him back.

Willing himself to look composed, he walked up to the fireman and the survivor. "Kathleen. Nice to see you in one piece," he said coldly. "I'm her husband, I'll take her from here."

"As you wish, Sir." The fireman released the woman. Nathaniel hesitated whether to go and prop her, but she held up her hand.

"No need, thank you. I can walk."

"All right." He said, turning to the nearest policeman. "Officer, keep your eyes open and arrest anyone you find suspicious. This was done either by the Resistance or the Americans. I want to see someone punished! Any questions?"

"No, Sir! We'll do our best, Sir!" The policeman saluted.

Nathaniel nodded and turned back to his wife. "What happened to Bella?"

A single tear ran down Kitty's soot-covered cheek. "She died, protecting me. She… she changed into some kind of a shield and took the brunt of the impact…"

"She was an obedient servant. Too bad I'll have to summon another one to do the housework…"

"Is the housework all that matters to you?" Kitty hissed. "Don't you miss _her _after years and years of serving you?"

"I never really got a chance to get to _know_ her." Nathaniel shrugged. "A foliot's a foliot, easily replaceable."

The woman looked away, her lips trembling. It was obvious she was on the verge of tears, but she valiantly fought back the sob that wanted to burst out of her.

Glancing at her dirty profile, Nathaniel felt an urge to put an arm around her and comfort her, but he thought better of it. He _didn't know_ how to comfort someone. He had never done it before. And besides, Kitty was a strong woman, she didn't need his comfort… she'd only push him away, he reasoned with himself.

In ten minutes they reached the spot where Nathaniel had left his car. He immediately spotted a young policeman who was eyeing the limousine, scribbling something into his notebook.

"Are you planning to fine me?" Nathaniel asked sharply.

"Well, if the car is yours." The policeman - who obviously didn't recognise him – shrugged.

"I was forced to leave the car here in order to get to the ruins of Harridges as soon as possible!"

"Others too were having difficulties getting there," the policeman replied casually.

"But others aren't the Minister of Internal Affairs," the young magician said icily.

"Oh…" The policeman seemed to have shrunken. "I'm sorry… didn't recognise… Certainly, you have every right to leave your limousine wherever you please, Sir…"

"That's more like it." Nathaniel gave the young officer a patronising look, then motioned his wife to sit into the car.

Neither of them said a single word on the way back to their house. Kitty was still too much under shock, and Nathaniel was too pleased to ruin the moment with pointless talk. How he loved pulling rank! The look on the poor policeman's face had been priceless...

Soon they reached the Mandrake Residence.

As Kitty got out of the car on wobbly legs, she stumbled and fell. Of course, if Nathaniel had been polite enough to open the door for her and help her out of the car…

She pressed her lips tightly together and stood up, giving her husband a withering glance.

"The last time I offered to help you out of the car, you ignored my hand," he reminded her. "I was just respecting your individualism. But as I see, you need a hand here, so I'm willing to help you up the stairs."

"I don't need your help," she said through gritted teeth and walked past him, into the house.

"Wait! Your shoes!"

"What?"

"They're all sooty. Remember what I told you after the wedding? No one treads on my Persian carpets with dirty shoes!"

With a swift motion, Kitty jerked the shoe off her right foot and chucked it at him, quickly followed by the left one. Both missiles found their target, and before Nathaniel could have reacted, she was already sprinting up the stairs, remarkably quickly in her condition.

"Wait!" he called after her.

"What _again_?" She doubled back on the top of the staircase. "Do I have to drop the rest of my clothes as well, just because they're equally dirty?"

"I wouldn't mind…" Nathaniel gave her a lopsided grin.

All the way home, he had been suppressing the feeling of relief, but now, as things were back to 'normal' (e.g. Kitty throwing things at him), relief over her survival washed over him like a tidal wave.

Seeing his grin, she made a grimace. No matter how much she tried to hate him for his cheek and coldness, the more often he grinned at her in that annoyingly superior way, the less she hated him. True, most of the time she felt like punching or kicking him in various parts of his anatomy, but the mere idea of getting in contact with those 'various parts' made her blush. She felt blood running to her cheeks and she was more than grateful for the thick layer of soot covering her face.

"You know," she said finally, "it wasn't nice of you to misuse your Parliamentary privilege."

"And it wasn't nice of the policeman to fine me when I was desperate to save my w…" he stopped, suddenly he realising what he'd just said. "I mean… it would have been highly difficult, perhaps even impossible, to find another Resistance member willing to marry me…" He straightened his tie, forcing an impassive expression on his face and walked up the stairs, but no matter how hard he tried, he felt blood rushing to his cheeks.

As he tried to walk past Kitty, she grabbed his arm. "Whether or not you wanted to save me in your own interest, I'm still grateful for… for worrying about me."

"Er…" Nathaniel felt like saying 'who was worried about you?', but his tongue failed him as she leaned closer and pecked him on the cheek.

He instinctively pressed his hand on his cheek and watched unblinkingly as she disappeared on the corner. He must have been imagining things, he decided, because he felt as though his skin were burning where her lips had touched it. Which was, of course, ridiculous. Ridiculous, just like him standing rooted to the spot, dreamily staring after a girl. He was no hormone-driven fourteen-year-old, for heaven's sake! He was a man who could control himself completely, thank you very much!

And yet, this man felt he was losing control – both of his body and his feelings. For years and years he'd thought – and hoped – that he had managed to kill all emotions in himself, as John Mandrake couldn't afford to have them. A magician was supposed to be cold, calculating and concentrating on nothing else but his career. Nathaniel had tried and so far brilliantly succeeded in becoming the 'ideal magician'. Now, however… he was having feelings. And the greatest of all of them was anger. Anger at the other emotions awakening at him – and anger at himself for not being able to suppress them. As for his body losing control… he shook his head in disgust. For a few seconds he'd been thinking that despite years of having had Jane Farrar as his lover, the sooty little peck he had just received from Kitty was the most erotic experience of his life. Heck, how low can he sink?

Fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket, he rubbed his cheek to make sure that no soot remained on it, and hurried out of the house.

It was time to forget Kitty. Preferably for good.

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty watched from the window of her room as her husband left in his limousine. He seemed to be in a hurry. Could it be some important Ministry business? She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and established that it was two p.m. Usually parliamentary sessions ended before lunch, so John couldn't have gone back to Parliament, could he? Well, he might as well have received an urgent call from one of the policemen stating that they had just arrested someone who looked suspicious... so John might have hurried into his office or directly to the Tower to interrogate the suspects.

This idea seemed logical enough, but Kitty had never been a girl to listen to logic – she had been thinking with her heart all her life, and most of the time her feelings had been right. And now, her feelings were telling her that John had left to meet that woman. Again…

_But why does this bother me?_ – She wondered, chewing her lower lip. _It shouldn't. He means nothing to me… He's an annoying jerk, a stuck-up, arrogant, selfish… but he **was** worried about me!_

Dejectedly she undressed to take a shower and wash all the dirt and blood off herself. As the droplets of water coursed down her face, they mingled with silent tears. And Kitty didn't even know why she was crying. Because of Bella's death? Because of the shock after today's events? Because of her whole fucked-up life? She had no idea, she just cried. It was a relief to cry.

o o o O O O o o o

Jane Farrar was surprised to get a visitor that afternoon, as she hadn't been expecting anyone. She was even more surprised to see a dishevelled, haunted-looking John Mandrake standing on her doormat. What surprised her most was that the always so cold and composed man grabbed her and kissed her with such force that she felt simply blown away. She barely managed to kick the door closed behind him because he held her in a vice-like grip, his lips attacking hers with fiery passion.

When they finally parted to be able to breathe, he was staring down at her hungrily, his expression reminding her of a wolf stalking its prey. "I need you Jane," he said in a low, grumbling voice. "I need you so bad…"

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel got home very late. He could have spent the night at Jane's place if he'd wanted to, but he didn't want to risk falling asleep in her presence and talking in his sleep.

He was more than relieved that he didn't run into Kitty in the house – she was surely asleep already. And after all, he had come home this late in order to avoid her.

The next day he got up as early as possible, and was again relieved that Kitty hadn't yet awoken. This was the right tactic, he decided: avoid her at all costs. He never minded having to work overtime if needed, so he might as well become a workaholic just to forget about his wife.

So far his plan was working, and he decided not to ponder what would happen later if he carried on arriving at work at seven a.m. and staying till ten p.m. He knew this would take its toll on him sooner or later, but being young and strong, he persuaded himself that he could take it. The only problem would be the weekends, but he'd surely make up something to solve it.

So, on Tuesday morning he arrived at Whitehall at seven (the guards were more than surprised to see a Minister this early in the morning).

Due to yesterday's catastrophe, the daily parliamentary session was cancelled, and Nathaniel spent the morning poring over reports over the damages and casualties of the explosion. At nine Ffoukes arrived with the news that the Police had someone arrested overnight and were expecting John's presence at the interrogation at three p.m.

"Excellent," Nathaniel said, trying to look really pleased and eager to conduct the interrogation. But it was just a show, and Ffoukes, being more or less his friend (the only Member of Parliament Nathaniel regarded in that light, as much as he _could _tell what a friend was), saw through the pretence.

"Yes, isn't it?" Ffoukes said in a would-be cheerful voice, deciding not to bother John with unwanted questions. "The girl wasn't really willing to speak so far-"

"Girl?" Nathaniel looked up.

"Yes, the person that the Police caught overnight was a girl. She was poking around the ruins at two a.m. We have no idea what she was looking for, but her behaviour was most suspicious."

"Well, it's not likely that she was trying to hide another bomb – after all, what else is left to be ruined there?" Nathaniel waved impatiently. "What's her name?"

"Margaret Watson."

"Watson, Watson… Aha!"

"Aha what?" Ffoukes raised an eyebrow at the young Minister.

"Remember the Makepeace incident?"

"How could I ever forget it?" The older man rolled his eyes. It was indeed something unforgettable – three years ago it turned out that Quentin Makepeace had been behind Lovelace and Duvall's coups and he was trying to revive the Resistance after the unfortunate tomb raid.

"When I uncovered Makepeace's plot and arrested him, I read through all the notes I found in his house. Those notes mentioned names of various Resistance members, and Margaret Watson was one of them, I clearly remember that," Nathaniel explained. "We'll see what she can tell us about the Resistance… but if she's at least a bit like Kitty-" His voice trailed off.

"John, are you all right?" Ffoukes asked worriedly.

Nathaniel shuddered and looked up from the tabletop. "Oh, yes, of course."

"So, what were you saying? If Watson is a bit like Miss Jo… I mean, Mrs Mandrake, then…?"

"Then I doubt we'll get any information from her. Kitty would die before she revealed anything about her precious Resistance fellows…"

"Well, she surely wouldn't, if you _forced_ her to…" The older man said with a little smile. "But if you could persuade her in other way…"

Nathaniel knitted his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Seduce her, John. And perhaps when she's lying in your arms, satisfied, she might let something slip…"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ffoukes. Kitty's cleverer than that. She wouldn't fall into a trap like that, and… I must admit I don't really feel like setting such a trap for her. Actually, I don't want to have _anything_ to do with her. Not now, not ever. I did my duty by marrying her, so now Deveraux and everyone else can leave me alone with their requests concerning Kitty!"

"My, my…" Ffoukes chuckled.

"What?" Nathaniel grunted.

"You're falling in love with her, my young friend."

"What? No, I'm not! I…"

"Don't worry, John, it happens to everyone… happened to me too once. And after all, what's wrong about loving your wife?"

"I _don't_ love her, Ffoukes."

"Yet. But apparently you're on your way there."

The young man leaned back into his leather armchair. "All right. Let's imagine it's happening to me. So, what is the only sensible action I can take? Avoid her. Ignore her. Forget about her. Therefore, I'm not willing to try to 'seduce' her for information. That would just make my situation even more difficult."

The older man shook his head. "It's not the real reason, is it?"

"The real reason for what?"

"Why you don't want to get information from her by seducing her," Ffoukes replied. "It's because you don't think it's an honest thing to do."

"Honest? I don't understand you. What makes you think I'm trying to be _honest_?" Nathaniel gave the older man a grimace. "The mere assumption is insulting."

"John, John… you can pretend to be just as corrupted as the rest of our government because you think it's… _trendy_, but truth is that you aren't. And you don't even want to be."

Nathaniel gave Ffoukes a sarcastic smirk. "Am I a lost cause, Dr. Freud?"

"Not yet. You are young John, the youngest of all the MPs. Too young to be lost already. You still have a choice to be a better person than we all are."

"I think you misunderstood me," Nathaniel said with a defiant edge. "I was wondering whether you thought I still had a chance to be corruptible, corrupted and insanely powerful."

"I know that's what _you_ meant. But I too meant what _I _said," Ffoukes replied. "Speaking of the Insanely Powerful – did you hear that Deveraux thinks yesterday's attack was an indirect attack on him? The owner of that department store, Archibald Harridge is an old friend of his. He reckons the terrorists wanted to scare _him _through his friend. He was raving about this at the Chamber for half an hour yesterday, right after you left in such a hurry."

"Yes, I've heard about Deveraux's outburst from Jane…"

"Are you aware that you've blushed, John?"

"It's hot in here." Nathaniel stood up and opened the window, but the 'fresh' air that came into the room was even hotter.

"Well, I must be going now," Ffoukes said, deciding not to ask more awkward questions. "See you in the Tower at three, then."

"Yeah, at three." The young Minister nodded, and as the door closed behind the other man, he dropped himself unceremoniously into his armchair, closing his eyes. He wasn't feeling very well. As though the heat wasn't enough, now even Ffoukes had to tell him such confusing, embarrassing things! And why did he have to blush at the mention of Jane's name?

Groaning, he hid his face in his palms, his thoughts racing back to the previous afternoon when he'd practically behaved like a sex-crazed rhino – he'd knocked her off her feet (literally) and had his way with her on the living room floor, showing no mercy, no gentleness, nothing whatsoever, just unbridled passion. Passion, that he felt for _Kitty._

Not that Jane had been complaining – she said she'd never experienced anything like this before and that she was more than satisfied with his performance. Under normal circumstances such a praise would have brought a huge, smug grin on his face, but yesterday… he'd felt ashamed.

His life had been so nice, so… _normal_ before Deveraux and his friends made up this whole madness about him marrying Kitty! And now, only three days after the wedding, his whole world was collapsing upon him. What had seemed so natural earlier felt shameful and disgusting now.

_Okay, Nathaniel, pull yourself together, and try to forget about Ki…_

He hadn't even got to the end of this thought as the door of his office swung open to reveal a very upset Kathleen Mandrake.

She banged the door shut behind her and stormed up to his desk.

"Kitty, what-?"

"Just heard that your men have arrested Maggie, it was in the news!" the woman said, panting. She must have run. "But John, she's innocent!"

"Innocent? As innocent as any Resistance member can be."

"But it wasn't her who bombed Harridges! It wasn't the Resistance!"

"How can you be so sure?" He stood up and stepped to the window. "Have you been exchanging secret messages with your fellows despite the restrictions of the marriage contract?"

"I have not! But I know Maggie!" Kitty snapped. Her face was turning redder by the second, and Nathaniel couldn't help but note that she looked extremely pretty when angry. "She wouldn't bomb a building full of people, for heaven's sake! All she was doing in the ruins was searching for salvageable magical objects!"

"What makes you think so?" He asked impassively.

"Because that has always been her task in the Resistance! Collecting magical objects!"

"Collecting? You mean… _stealing_?"

"Whatever," she hissed. "When Maggie joined the Resistance she insisted on doing the more or less peaceful jobs – she's simply too good, too gentle to be a mass murderer!"

"We shall see if it's true… I'm going to interrogate her personally in the afternoon," the young magician said calmly, but all his pretended calmness vanished as she lunged forward and grabbed his arm.

"John, please! Don't torture her!"

Nathaniel shrugged her hands off. The thought that Kitty actually _believed _him evil enough to torture someone made his stomach churn. "I can't promise anything, Kathleen," he said coldly.

"Oh, yes, you _can_ promise things," she replied with a patronising stare. "You just don't keep them. I loathe you, John Mandrake."

"Good." He nodded and turned away to look out the window.

"Don't you turn your back on me as long as I'm talking to you!"

"Temper, temper," he tutted. "You have serious problems controlling your emotions, Kathleen."

"Perhaps, but it's still better than not having any!" she retorted.

"Could you yell more quietly?" He stepped away from the window. "The whole of Whitehall must have heard you…"

"You can't shut me up, John Mandrake!" She stamped her foot. "Let the whole of Whitehall know that my husband is an arseh-"

Nathaniel chose the only sensible option to silence her – something that he didn't regard as sensible later: in one quick step he crossed the space between them and plastered his lips to hers.

This indeed silenced her for about three-four seconds. Then…

He blinked, not knowing why he was propping himself against his desk and why his jaw was hurting like hell. His eyes met Kitty's – hers were sparkling with fury, and her hands were still clenched in fists. Nathaniel concluded that one of those fists must have caused his jaw to hurt.

He tentatively touched his jaw and winced.

"You deserved that," she said, much more quietly this time. "This is what you get if you try to touch me again."

Nathaniel shrugged. "I never touch a woman who doesn't desire me… and as you said 'I loathe you John Mandrake', I saw desire in your eyes."

"Desire to kill you!" she snapped.

"Mmm… perhaps. Even I can misread expressions…"

"If anything happens to Maggie, I will kill you," she said, walking to the door. "Even if that costs me a lifetime in the Tower."

As the door banged shut behind her, Nathaniel slapped the desk in frustration. _I leave early in the morning to avoid her! I decide to overwork to forget her! And what does she do? She follows me here! I can't spend my whole life hiding from her! But what can I do then? WHAT?_

The next thing he knew, he was hurrying down the corridor towards Jane Farrar's tiny office. As he burst into the her office, he found her leaning against her desk while Clive Jenkins, Nathaniel's earlier assistant whom he'd 'passed down' to Jane, was diligently typing the letter she was dictating.

"Jenkins, out!" the young Minister barked at the assistant, who – apparently frightened by Nathaniel's expression - hopped up from his seat, bowed slightly and hurried out of the office.

"John, what…?" Jane began, but couldn't finish her sentence as he practically swept her off her feet. Pencil cases, stacks of paper, several disks and even the fax machine fell off the table. For another half an hour neither of them bent down to pick them up.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: next chapter: some Nat/Kitty 'romancing'. Kind of. **

**Review, please!**


	7. Mon Ami, C'est L'amour

**A/N: since you've been reviewing so diligently, here's an early update for you, you deserve it :)**

**In case you're wondering about the chapter's title, it means 'my friend, this is love'. This line comes from Disney's Aladdin where Al tells Genie (who is a bit like Barty, IMHO;) about his feelings for Jasmine (in the oasis scene) and Genie turns into a French guy for a few seconds and says 'Mon ami, c'est l'amour'. Heh, gotta love Aladdin, my fav Disney movie ever:D**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Saldaen farmgirl, the Thirteenth Councilor, Anonymous, Aiko Moonchild, Astrensi, gremlin, azimataiji, UforUseless, Angelnanoo, BobtheFrog, Slytherin Daughter, refloc, 4everrandom, Coruscate Corruption, Starfire Gracen, Irisz, Queen Dragon, Deaces, K__rzysztoffa_**

**Chapter 7**

**Mon Ami, C'est L'amour**

Soon it became clear for Nathaniel that Margaret Watson indeed wasn't a mass murderer.

After he and Ffoukes had asked her several questions for which she gave evasive answers or no answers at all, Nathaniel decided it was time to give up on the interrogation. Some other magicians might have employed torture to get the information they wanted, but Nathaniel just wasn't the type. He might have been cruel and calculating, and he would have tortured a demon without scruple, but a human being… especially a female… no.

"The girl's hiding nothing," Nathaniel murmured to the other magician after they exited the interrogation cell. "I can see it in her eyes."

"Nothing… except for the location of the Resistance headquarters," Ffoukes said casually.

"I know." An evil little grin appeared on Nathaniel's face.

"What are you planning, John?"

"Release the girl and send search spheres after her. Sooner or later she will contact her Resistance fellows, and we'll know it."

"You know, we could have done the same with the Jones girl… I mean, Mrs Mandrake. We could have released her instead of forcing her to marry you… and we could have followed her."

"I don't think so." Nathaniel shook his head. "Kitty's too clever for that… and defiant to the last. She would have figured out she was being followed and she would have avoided contact with her fellows for the rest of her life rather than let us find out where they're hiding. This girl, however… she seems a bit… naive. She's indeed the innocent, gentle type as Kitty said…"

"When did you talk to Mrs Mandrake about Miss Watson?" Ffoukes raised an eyebrow at the younger man.

Nathaniel heaved a sigh. "She paid me a little visit after you left my office. She shouted a few things at me, punched me and ran away. Honestly, I don't understand why the guards let her into the building in the first place…"

"Because she's _your wife_. Everyone in the Whitehall knows that now…" Ffoukes grinned at Nathaniel. "Did she really punch you?"

"For the second time in my life. Her fists are deadly. And Ffoukes, stop laughing. It isn't a bit funny."

"Oh, no, of course not…" The older man chuckled. "So, shall we release the girl, then?"

"Yes. I'll go back and tell her she's free."

"She'll be delighted. And your wife too. Who knows, she might throw herself into your arms after such a display of generosity…" Ffoukes winked at his young friend.

"I wouldn't count on that. She'll see through the plot in a second. But no problem - after all, you and I are the only people in the government who _know_ that Watson is a member of the Resistance. No one else knows that, so we can tell the media that we released her because we found her innocent. Beside us only Kitty knows about Watson's Resistance connections, and Kitty can't stop Watson from going and contacting her fellows. If we're lucky, we'll have the Resistance behind bars within a few days. All of them."

"_If_ the girl is indeed as naive as you think she is," Ffoukes added.

"Yes… _If_."

"And if not? What if she leaves London and never comes back?"

"Then the Resistance will be one member short and the Tower will have to feed one prisoner less. You have no idea how much it costs the Empire just to feed those prisoners… We have nothing to lose, Ffoukes. If she leads us to the Resistance Headquarters, then it's good for us. If she leaves forever and never causes more trouble, it's also good for us. We gain nothing if we keep her here. She's naive, that's true, but loyal. She wouldn't break if we kept her here all her life…"

"Have you never thought of… torture?" Ffoukes asked vaguely.

Nathaniel's eyes flashed at the older man. "You know I have, and you know I still wouldn't do it."

Ffoukes afforded himself a little smile. "Yes, I do. I just wanted to hear it from you. People like Lovelace, Duvall or Makepeace would have done it without scruple. Most magicians would."

"I'm not like most," Nathaniel said through gritted teeth.

"That's what I told you a few hours earlier," Ffoukes pointed out. "But then you insisted you wanted to be like most magicians."

"Drop the topic, shall we?" The young man sighed. "Go and prepare a few search spheres to follow Miss Watson."

Ffoukes left and Nathaniel re-entered the interrogation cell.

The girl looked up with a defiant expression. "What's the verdict?" she asked in a would-be confident voice, but her lips were clearly trembling with nervousness.

"You're free to leave."

"What?" she gasped. "You must be kidding!"

"Why would I be kidding? My colleague and I decided that you were pretty much useless to us. It wasn't you who bombed Harridges that much is clear. It was either the Resistance or the Americans."

The girl's lips twitched at the mention of 'Resistance'. Nathaniel pretended not to have noticed it. Let the girl believe he didn't know that she was working for the enemy.

"Well, you may go." Nathaniel opened the door for her, motioning her to exit.

The girl stopped in the doorway. "I've seen your wedding on the television, Sir," she said. "Are you happy with your wife?"

Nathaniel was surprised by the question. "Yes," he answered vaguely. "Very much. Why?"

"Just asking." Watson shrugged and left the cell.

"She's free," the young Minister told the guards standing on the corridor.

After a few steps, the woman turned around. "Your wife… she might be one of us commoners… but she seems to be a nice girl. Treat her well, Sir."

With that, she was off, not knowing that as soon as she exited the building, search spheres would be following her wherever she went.

Nathaniel stared after her receding figure, frowning. Had he been imagining the sadness in Watson's eyes as she was referring to his wife? And did a commoner have the right to be sorry for a girl who had been so fortunate to marry a rich magician and live the rest of her life as a princess? Was Kitty worthy of anyone's pity?

_Well, if she has to spend her life with **me**_… - a voice in his head told him reproachfully. This woman must have been Kitty's friend, he concluded. Kitty was trying to defend Watson and Watson, in her own clumsy way, was trying to beseech him to be nice to Kitty. _Friendship?_ – he mused. He never really knew what that meant. Ffoukes was someone with whom he could talk about things he wouldn't talk about to anyone else, but… was that friendship? Ffoukes had been very sincere with him today. The older man's openness sometimes scared Nathaniel – but what scared him most was that Ffoukes had been right about him. He was indeed softer than the average magician, and he was indeed on the way to falling in love with his wife.

He bit into his lower lip. What would Kitty say if he managed to put the whole Resistance behind bars? She'd surely hate him for the rest of her life… But he couldn't miss this chance to show off to the government, could he? Nathaniel intended to be the youngest Prime Minister ever, and he needed to grab every opportunity to get closer to his goal.

_Even if that makes Kitty hate you even more than she already does? – _the annoying little voice in his head asked.

_Heck, why should I care about Kitty's opinion?_

o o o O O O o o o

It was Saturday morning and Kitty was bored and furious - both because of the fact that John had left for the weekend. She hadn't seen him since he'd kissed her and she'd punched him in his office, as he had gone to work early and come home late every day. She found out about his departure from a note he'd left on the kitchen table. And now he was spending the weekend with that trollop Jane Farrar in Venice. Venice, of all places!

Despite her fury, Kitty couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of Mandrake sitting in a gondola and romancing Farrar. Actually, the mere thought of 'Mandrake' and 'romance' in one context was ridiculous. And yet, no matter how ridiculous she found it, a little imp in her soul kept badgering her, telling her that it should be _her_ sitting in the gondola with John. They hadn't even had a honeymoon… come to think of it, they hadn't had a wedding night either. Not that she missed it… or did she?

Kitty knew she should be satisfied now that Mandrake apparently no longer wanted to make any advances, but the thought of him making advances to another woman hurt her.

_You're being crazy, Kitty_, she chided herself. _You should be happy about that idiot frolicking with Farrar and leaving you alone!_ She sighed. _But I'm not. What's wrong with me?_

It even came to Kitty's mind that she should go and visit her parents not to be alone, but at the prospect of having to listen to endless praises on her husband, she thought better of it. She didn't really feel like taking a walk in London either, because she had a suspicion that if she did, a search sphere or John's male foliot would follow her wherever she went. After all, her husband surely didn't trust her enough to leave her completely alone at home, giving her a chance to contact her old mates, did he?

And then, there was the case of Maggie Watson. Her husband had let Maggie free days ago, and Kitty simply didn't understand why… unless he wanted Maggie to lead the magicians to the Resistance. But so far nothing had happened. Kitty seriously hoped that Maggie had enough sense to avoid her Resistance fellows for a while. _She_ certainly did.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel wasn't enjoying his stay in Venice much. He hadn't even wanted to come here – all he'd wanted was to leave his home for the weekend so that he wouldn't have to run into a scantily clad Kitty every time he wanted to swim. He'd suggested to Jane that they leave for the British countryside, but she had something more 'romantic' in mind. Nathaniel shuddered at the mere mention of the word 'romantic', but in the hope that a trip to Italy would take his mind off his wife, he'd agreed on Venice as their destination.

As the gondolier was singing 'O Sole Mio' (rather out of tune), Nathaniel's thoughts inadvertently drifted to Kitty. Wouldn't she look lovely, waving at him from Rialto Bridge? Wouldn't it feel nice if she snuggled up to him in the gondola, bending her head on his shoulder like Jane did now?

One would think that a young couple's trip to Venice could only be perfect. But theirs had been far from that. Not only had Nathaniel not felt like coming to Venice of all places, but there had also been problems with the sleeping arrangements. He had insisted on booking two rooms while Jane had insisted on one. Eventually he had managed to persuade her to sleep in separate rooms, lying that he had recently started to snore.

'_How do you know that? Did **your wife** tell you that you were snoring?_' Jane had asked accusingly.

'_No, as you know well that I'm not sleeping in the same room as she is! However, sometimes I wake to feel my throat sore – that can only mean I have been snoring,_' he had replied irritably. '_I just want to spare you a sleepless night!'_

'_Actually…_' Jane had said in a purring voice, '_I wasn't planning on **sleeping** much over the weekend…'_

'_The fact that I **sleep** in another room doesn't mean we can't have sex **before** we go to sleep_,' he had replied.

Jane had given him a kinky smile. '_All right, Casanova, you win. If you perform as well as you did on my living room floor and my office desk, then I'm game. You can **sleep** wherever you want.'_

The ringing of his mobile phone shook Nathaniel out of his reverie about Kitty. He fished the tiny gadget out of his breast pocket.

"Mandrake here."

"Finally, John!" Ffoukes' excited voice said. "I've already phoned you at home, but your wife said you were abroad. I tried to reach Miss Farrar as well, but she didn't answer her phone either."

"We're together," Nathaniel replied dryly. "What's so important, Ffoukes? Something about Watson?"

"No. The girl left London. According to the sphere tailing her, she's currently at some tiny village called Little Hangleton, visiting relatives. They don't even have a telephone connection there, so I doubt if she could contact her Resistance fellows in any way."

"Then apparently she had more sense than to lure us to their headquarters," the young Minister concluded. "But if it's not about her, then why so excited, Ffoukes?"

"Well, Deveraux has just announced that we're going to have a charity ball on Tuesday. All MPs are expected to be there, _with their wives_."

Nathaniel suppressed a groan. "Charity ball? What for?"

"The terror attack, of course. We're going to raise money for the families of the dead. There were commoners in the building as well, and-"

"…and this is another brilliant PR scheme of Deveraux's," Nathaniel sighed. "Let the mob see how generous we are."

"Exactly as you say, John. Oh, and before I forget, our esteemed Prime Minister is expecting Miss Farrar in Whitehall this evening. How did he put it? 'We can't arrange this ball so fast without the amazing organising talents of Miss Farrar'. So there, wherever you are, you've got to return to London. Or at least, Miss Farrar does. Have a nice weekend, John."

"What happened?" Jane asked with a dark expression as Nathaniel pocketed his cell phone.

"We're going back to London," he replied, and surprisingly, he felt relieved that this would-be romantic weekend ended all too soon.

o o o O O O o o o

"Kathleen? Kitty!" Nathaniel called to his wife as he entered his house in the evening. She didn't answer. "Kathleen?" He walked into the garden, looking around in the darkness.

"Yes?" her voice replied from the swimming pool. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be groping your trollop in a gondola till tomorrow evening?"

"I was going to, but something happened that made me return earlier." He began walking closer to the pool, then halted. "Are you… nude, Kathleen?"

"What makes you think I am?" She asked, resting her elbows on the edge of the pool.

"I can't see any bra straps," he pointed out.

"Oh, okay, I am nude. So what? It's dark, no one can see me unless they come within two metres' range. And just to remind you, it was you who told me not to prance around in bra and knickers… and since I still don't have a swimsuit… Besides, I wasn't expecting you till tomorrow evening, so you don't have any right to reprimand me."

"I wasn't reprimanding…"

"Be a gentleman and hold out that towel for me. And look away while I get out."

Nathaniel did as she asked, fighting down the temptation to steal a glance at her.

"Okay, I'm presentable," she said finally, wrapped in the towel. "So, what brought you back this early? I seriously hope it's not something about Maggie…"

"Don't worry, it has nothing to do with your precious Resistance," he replied, still not looking at her. "Apparently Deveraux got the idea of arranging a charity ball on Tuesday evening. I must be there, and you too."

"But I've got nothing to wear. All the things Bella and I bought are buried under the ruins of Harridges," she said.

"That's why we're going shopping tomorrow."

"Shopping? You and me? Together?" Her voice sounded amused.

Nathaniel sent her a withering glance – as much as she could tell in the darkness. "Yes, you and me, shopping. You have no idea about fashion, and with Bella gone, _I_ will have to make sure you buy something acceptable in our circles. And while you're at it, you may as well buy a swimsuit. Be ready by eight tomorrow. And don't forget your passport."

"My… passport?" Kitty blinked. "Why, where are we going?"

"Harridges was the only place in London where you could buy things worthy of a Minister's wife. We're going to Paris."

"Paris?" she breathed.

"Yes, but only for a day, so don't make big sightseeing plans."

"Can we go up to the top of the Eiffel Tower at least?"

"I don't have time for-"

"You _would _have had time for sightseeing in a gondola with Jane Farrar," she said nastily.

She had a point there. "All right. We may as well visit the Eiffel Tower."

"Great!" She said enthusiastically, and for a second he thought she was going to hug him. But she didn't, just hurried past him into the building.

Staring after her, he couldn't help thinking that she looked very pretty in that towel. And, inexplicably, he looked forward to tomorrow's shopping spree much more than he had to the weekend with Jane.

o o o O O O o o o

It turned out that Kitty had never yet flown. Nathaniel thought it was a gallant gesture to let her sit by the window. He tried to bury himself into _The Times_, but didn't manage to close out the outside world – and Kitty – completely, and whenever she gasped or murmured 'oh, how beautiful!', he felt his lips twitch. He had a hard time not to start smiling every time she involuntarily let out a small squeal of delight.

"Look, John, I can see the Eiffel Tower!" she said excitedly after the captain had announced they were about to land. Nathaniel, who hadn't yet been to Paris, slightly leaned across her to catch a glimpse of said building. As he did so, he felt Kitty's warm breath on his neck and cheek. He looked away from the window, and their eyes met. For a change, Nathaniel didn't see hatred or disgust or a desire to kill him in her eyes. They rather reminded him of deep, peaceful black lakes. His gaze shifted a little lower, and was surprised to see that she was smiling. It was a tiny smile, but a genuine one. Not a smirk, not a sneer – there wasn't anything derisive or defiant about it.

"Er… it looks nice," he said and quickly sat back into his seat. The captain's advice to fasten their seatbelts gave him a good excuse to turn away from Kitty and pretend that he had momentarily forgotten about her presence.

o o o O O O o o o

At the airport they got into a taxi. For the first time in his life, Nathaniel was grateful to Arthur Underwood for making him study so many languages as a child – French had been one of them, and it was well-known that the French weren't too eager to learn other languages beside their own.

"Take us to the nearest Chanel or Dior store," he instructed the taxi driver in French. "Whichever is closer. Or whichever you know best… _if_ you know them at all."

"Certainly, Sir. I have driven many British ladies to Dior-Paris-Royale, that seems to be their favourite," the taxi driver replied.

Shortly the taxi stopped before 25, rue Royal. Nathaniel paid the driver and entered the store with his wife.

"This looks even more pompous than Harridges," Kitty remarked, looking around in amazement.

As they entered, one of the shop's assistants hurried to meet them. He gave the young magician's Armani suit a more or less appreciative glance, but as his eyes fell on Kitty, he produced a grimace. Apparently no woman who had ever entered this shop had worn a tattered pair of jeans and tank top that left most of her belly uncovered.

"Er… may I help you, Monsieur, Madamoiselle?" He asked with a forced smile.

"Naturally," Nathaniel replied. "We'd like a ball dress for my wife."

The shop assistant again sized up Kitty from head to toe, then glanced at her elegant companion. Apparently he couldn't decide what to think of such an odd couple. "And what kind of a ball dress did you think of? I mean… a medium-price one, or-"

"Money doesn't matter," Nathaniel said casually. "If you manage to convince us to buy your most expensive one…"

The assistant bowed slightly with a greedy expression. "This way Madame, Monsieur."

They spent over two hours at the shop and left over twenty-five thousand Francs in their cash register. The shop assistant certainly wasn't complaining, but Kitty _was_ – she kept telling her husband 'it's enough already, John, I don't need so many clothes', but he insisted that if they had come as far as Paris, then they should buy her a whole wardrobe. He even paid the shop to have their purchases shipped over to Great Britain, as they had some sightseeing to do and it would be highly uncomfortably if they had to carry dozens of bags to the Eiffel Tower.

"You really needn't have paid out so much money," Kitty said as they left the shop.

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me feel uneasy."

"Uneasy?" Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at her. "Any girl in your place would be too delighted to have a stack of Dior clothes to feel uneasy."

"I'm not like any girl." Kitty shrugged.

"True. You're more annoying than the rest," he replied, but didn't sound reproachful in the least. Kitty even thought he seemed to be smiling. Barely, but still… it _was_ a smile.

"And now, My Annoying Wife, shall we see that Eiffel Tower?"

"Yes, let's." She returned his smile.

o o o O O O o o o

They caught a taxi that drove them to Trocadero Square.

A most unusual sight greeted them there: due to the extreme heat, several children – and a few of their parents – were bathing in the fountains all around.

"Ridiculous," Nathaniel muttered. "They'd be fined for such behaviour in London."

"They are _French_, John," Kitty reminded him. "Not as snobbish as some British."

"Are you referring to me?"

"Noooo, why would I?" She grinned. "But you know, you could take that jacket off… no one would be scandalised if you did, and I promise I won't tell any of your friends in Parliament. Besides, you're sweating like a pig."

"Am not!"

"Yes, you are. It's at least 35 Celsius."

Making a grimace, Nathaniel took off his suit jacket. Of course, he'd never admit to Kitty that he felt much better wearing just a thin linen shirt. He hated it when other people (or certain djinn) were right.

o o o O O O o o o

There were long queues waiting to get their tickets for the Eiffel Tower visit. Soon Nathaniel started to get irritable and impatient. After an hour of waiting, Kitty had to grab his arm and drag him back into the queue.

"It just isn't worth the wait," he whined. "Besides, my back is killing me. Having to stand at one spot for hours gives me horrible back-aches. Not to mention it's hot and I'm close to fainting."

"Don't be such a pansy, John!" she snapped. "Honestly, I thought you were some sportsman with those fine broad shoulders of yours, but apparently-"

"You think I have fine broad shoulders?" he interjected.

"Uh… well, you do." She looked away, feeling that blood was rushing to her cheeks. "Ah, look, the queue has moved! We're only about half an hour from getting our tickets! Patience, John, I'm sure it will be worth it!"

And it was. In about forty minutes, they were standing on top of the tower, looking down at the city below. Several boulevards ran from the Arc de Triomphe in all directions, as though the Arc de Triomphe had been the spider sitting at the middle of its web.

Nathaniel welcomed the breeze that had been completely absent on the ground – it was a warm breeze, but still better than none at all.

"I have dreamed about this all my life," Kitty spoke up, gazing down at the fountains of Trocadero that now seemed like tiny bluish-white springs with hundreds of pinpricks bathing in them.

"About what? Having to put up with a whiny husband?" Nathaniel asked in an amused voice.

"No," she laughed, her eyes twinkling merrily. "About looking down at Paris from the Eiffel Tower. As a little girl I heard so many idealised stories about Paris and I never hoped I'd ever get a chance to visit it." She reached out and put her hand on his that was resting on the railing. "Thank you for bringing me here."

Nathaniel wanted to slip his hand from under hers and wanted to tell her that he hadn't done it for her, only in his own interest (equipping her with clothes in which she wouldn't bring shame on him in the London magician society), but he found that he could do neither. So he just stood there, watching as the wind ruffled her long, black hair, and before he realised what he was doing, he covered her hand with his other one, and giving her a faint smile, he said "You're welcome."

The afternoon found them on board a Seine sightseeing boat. The boat played different music every time they reached a new bridge or an important building. As they sailed past Notre Dame and the boat's speakers began playing 'Ave Maria', Nathaniel felt his insides tremble – whether because Ave Maria was so heart-wrenchingly beautiful or because Kitty had suddenly decided to lean her head on his shoulder, Nathaniel didn't know. All he knew was that he was enjoying himself much more than he had with Jane in Venice.

He glanced down at Kitty, who was deeply immersed in watching the many couples happily snogging on the shore. Over Kitty's head, Nathaniel's gaze met that of a man sitting on the other end of the bench. The man grinned at him, and in a distinctive Breton accent he said: "Mon ami, c'est l'amour."

Nathaniel looked away, savouring the sentence. _Could it be love?_ Could he love anyone beside himself?

He didn't know whether he was in love or not, but if he was, he wasn't yet ready to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: almost everything I wrote in this chapter about Paris comes from my own experience, from my own memories. I was in Paris in August 1997 and it was so hot (around 38-39 Celsius) that people were _indeed_ bathing in the fountains at Trocadero… As for the boat trip and the Eiffel Tower, it was just like how I described it here. The only thing about Paris that _doesn't_ come from my own experience is the shop of Dior. I never cared to buy clothes in Paris, I went there for sightseeing, not for fashion reasons! (Btw, the best thing about my Paris visit was Disneyland, LOL).**

**You might wonder about the currency I used here – Francs instead of Euros. First I wrote Euros, but then my beta Michael reminded me that the Bartimaeus trilogy was set in an alternate universe where very likely there was no European Union. So that's why the French still have their Francs here :)**

**There's an illo for this chapter in my bio.**

**Review, please!**


	8. Your Loss Is My Gain

**A/N: I was getting reviews with rather different opinions on the speed of Nat and Kitty's developing romance. Most say it's paced just okay, but some say it's too quick. I understand those who say it's too quick, but you need to understand that I can't spend a lot of time developing romance if I want to proceed with the story itself, because the REAL STORY only starts when Nat and Kitty finally fall into each other's arms. **

**Of course, I could have written another one or two chapters only about developing their feelings, but it would have slowed the fic down and would have bored you. One of my big fears is always that I bore the reader, so I aim not to. Therefore, I decided to proceed with the plot instead of dwelling too much on emotions. Don't worry, there _will be_ emotions throughout the fic, I just don't like _overdoing _them. In my readers' interest :) I'm a plot person, not a slowly-developing-feelings person. **

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _gremlin, Perennial Rhinitis, Musica Diabolos, Hugani (yeah, Kitty's a lot like Holly…), refloc, Rekhyt, Saiyume, azimataiji, colorguardchick05, Queen Dragon (please log in or give me your email addy or I can't reply to your review!), 4everrandom, the Thirteenth Councilor, Astrensi, pi-fan92, Bismillah _**

**Chapter 8**

**Your Loss Is My Gain**

Kitty was looking at herself in a full-length mirror, remembering the last time she'd done the same. On her wedding day, she had been sizing herself up with a resigned expression. Now, however, there was a little smile on her face.

She knew that she wasn't supposed to be in the least happy about this ball, after all, it had been brought about by a catastrophe; and yet, she couldn't help feeling excited about having a chance to dance with John again. Their first – and so far last – dance had been a disaster with him limping and wincing all the way through, and back then she had felt disgusted by the mere idea of having to hold his hand and letting his other hand rest on her waist… but now she looked forward to it. She didn't really want to admit it, but she was missing John.

After they had returned from Paris on Sunday evening, she had barely seen him. She didn't know whether he indeed had so much work or was deliberately avoiding her, but she didn't think it would be a good idea to ask him. She didn't yet trust him enough for that, and she didn't know whether she'd ever fully do so. But even if he wasn't trustworthy, he had shown a little change on Sunday. Not much, but just enough for Kitty to notice. For the first time since she'd first met him, John had allowed himself to let his hair down. He'd taken off his suit jacket and strolled around in Paris like an average, normal person. He had even showed her that he had a sense of humour, even if it was more or less sarcastic.

Kitty was sure that tonight John wouldn't be the same man he had been in Paris, after all, in government circles he would be laughed at if he showed any kind of humanity. But a cold John was still better than none at all…

Kitty blinked. _Where did **that idea** come from?_ She shook her head in disbelief. She'd been having equally ridiculous thoughts since Sunday, and all of them were about a certain Mr Mandrake. Funnily, none of them included killing him or beating him up…

_Heavens, Kitty, you're going soft_, she chided herself. _He's a goddamn magician, just as evil and calculating as the rest! _But had he looked at all evil in Paris? With a grimace, she admitted that he hadn't. He'd been almost friendly. And the way he had been looking at her on top of the Eiffel tower…

Kitty felt a flip-flop in her stomach at the memory. Closing her eyes, she began to massage her temples, but the mental image currently residing in her mind just wouldn't go away. _Dang it, Mandrake, why do you have to have such beautiful blue eyes?_ Upon opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was the same pair of blue eyes looking at her from the mirror.

A shiver ran down her spine. "When… when did you enter? I didn't notice."

"I knocked but apparently you were too immersed in your thoughts." Nathaniel shrugged. "Are you aware that your face has just turned the same colour as a beetroot?"

"It hasn't!"

"Yes, it has," he replied with a lopsided grin. "But don't worry, it suits you. Goes well with your dress too."

"Ehm…" Kitty didn't really know what to answer. Glancing at her mirror image once more, she established that her face was indeed as red as her dress.

"You're beautiful."

Her eyes widened, and she felt like twirling around, but she found that she couldn't move. "Am I?"

"Yes," he said with a smug expression. "Every other minister will envy me at the ball."

"Just a week ago you said I was _extremely ugly_," she reminded him with a small smile.

"And I landed in the swimming pool for it. Mind you, I deserved that."

"What, are we no longer at war, Mr Mandrake?" She turned around, sending him a challenging look.

He pursed his lips. "I don't know. We could be, if you wanted to. It was kind of fun."

"I think I like peace better."

"Well, enjoy it as long as it lasts," he replied with a wink. "Knowing you, it won't last long."

"Knowing _you,_ it won't last long!" she retorted.

"Hmm… probably. Well, shall we, milady?" He offered her his arm, and she took it without a second of hesitation.

o o o O O O o o o

"I've heard that you and John managed to arrest an American spy this morning," Jane Farrar told Ffoukes in a chit-chatty voice. They, along with hundreds of magicians, were standing in Westminster Hall, waiting for the Prime Minister to open the occasion.

"Yes, indeed," Ffoukes replied. "The spy has confessed to having contributed to the bombing of Harridges. Currently our men are after the rest of the terrorists. We got quite a good clue from the spy we interrogated today."

"Hmm… and how can you be sure that the spy hasn't misled you?" asked Jane, sipping a bit of champagne.

"John is good at reading facial reactions and said he was a hundred per cent sure our little captive wasn't lying. Well, we'll see."

"Undoubtedly we will." The woman nodded. "Speaking of John, is he bringing his lovely little wife?"

"Well, he is supposed to," Ffoukes answered, looking around, as though he were searching for his young friend in the crowd, even though he knew John hadn't yet arrived. "Deveraux himself asked me to remind John that he's a married man now, and as such, he's expected to bring his wife to social events. And even if it _weren't_ expected of him to bring Mrs Mandrake, I'm pretty much sure he still would. I have a feeling that our John is getting rather fond of her." He sent the woman a sideways glance to see that she looked ready to strangle him. A frown creased her forehead and she was gripping her glass of champagne so tightly that it was a wonder the glass hadn't yet broken. An imp hovering above her shoulder gave Ffoukes a glance just as dark as its mistress's.

Finally Jane recovered her voice and forced it to sound sugary-sweet. "Honestly, Ffoukes I don't know what makes you think that John is developing feelings for that filthy little commoner. He desires me more than he ever had. Why, last Tuesday he practically raped me on my office desk…" She took a gulp of champagne with a superior smirk.

"Last Tuesday?" Ffoukes rubbed his chin in a contemplative way. "When exactly?"

"Oh, I don't know, slightly after noon, but does it matter?"

"Actually, it does." It was the man's turn to smirk in a superior way. "John mentioned to me that last Tuesday his wife had paid him a little visit around noon and riled him up pretty much. I'd imagine she not only riled him but… _aroused_ him as well. It's possible that you, my dear, merely came in handy to satisfy his urges." Ffoukes also took a sip of his champagne. "But of course, it may be just my too vivid imagination… Speaking of vivid, look who's arrived! My, my, isn't Mrs Mandrake the belle of the ball?"

Miss Farrar looked in the direction of the staircase, on top of which her lover appeared, arm in arm with Kitty 'Commoner Filth' Jones. Jane even refused to refer to that woman as 'Mandrake' in her mind. This nobody wasn't worthy of that name, she decided.

The Mandrake couple descended the stairs.

Something's in Jane's stomach clenched at the sight of John's face. She had never seen him so relaxed, so… happy yet. And that commoner filth… she looked like a queen in her tight-fitting, vivid crimson dress that appeared to be a real Dior.

Ffoukes hurried over to the Mandrakes, shook John's, and kissed Kitty's hand in greeting. "You're undoubtedly the prettiest lady here tonight," Jane heard Ffoukes telling that 'commoner tramp'.

"Tsk-tsk, Ffoukes, are you trying to seduce my wife?" John said in an amused voice.

The 'tramp' laughed, and her eyes met John's and John smiled down at her. He had never smiled like that at Jane. Suddenly Jane felt a sharp pain in her palm and fingers.

"Jane!" John seemed to have noticed her presence at last. "What happened to your hand? It's bleeding!"

"Nothing, John," the female magician replied coldly. "I just grabbed my glass too tight." She murmured a few words in Arabic and the wounds disappeared. As she looked up from her freshly healed hand, she realised that the 'commoner filth' was standing right next to her. Jane forced a smile on her face. "Mrs Mandrake."

"Good evening, Miss Farrar. I hope your hand is no longer hurting."

_If only **you** were hurting, preferably in a torture chamber of the Tower! _Jane thought, but aloud only said"No, thank you," in a sugary voice.

"Oh, Deveraux's here," Ffoukes chimed in, and everyone in the hall fell silent to listen to the Prime Minister's rather boring and lengthy speech about the importance of tonight's ball.

o o o O O O o o o

Half an hour later the party was in full swing, and Kitty found herself left alone with a glass of rum punch, as one of the ministers had whisked John away to discuss boring everyday politics. John had given her an apologetic glance and let the old minister lead him away.

Watching some magician couples swaying on the dance floor to a Strauss waltz, Kitty felt almost envious. She hadn't even had a chance to dance with her husband yet, but wasn't entirely sure John _would_ be willing to dance at all after last time. The memory of a limping John at their wedding made her chuckle. Staring at the rosy liquid in her glass, she wondered how things could have changed so much so quickly. One and a half weeks ago she would have given anything just to be a free woman, to live as far from Mandrake as possible; and now she considered every minute they spent apart a wasted one.

_Am I in love with him?_ – She wondered, deliberate not to follow him with her eyes. _Honestly, what is so special about him? He's arrogant, selfish, cold and… oh, I don't know, but it feels so… so good._

She finished her rum punch and put the glass on the tray carried by a servant. The servant bowed slightly – apparently he had been instructed to bow every time a magician deigned to give him empty plates or glasses. Kitty turned away from him, making a grimace. This servant was just like her – a commoner, and was bowing to her as though she were one of those whom she despised. The feeling that she didn't belong here attacked her stronger than ever before.

_Heavens, what am I doing here?_ – She groaned inwardly. _I should be out there, fighting the government, and I'm here instead, pretending to be one of them! If it weren't for John, I'd just run away…_

She halted in her stride. _Oh nooooo… I've started **caring** about his opinion and his damn reputation! This must be the end of the world…_She shook her head in disgust._ I **don't** care about his goddamn reputation! I don't belong here, and I'm not even staying!_

She began walking towards the staircase, but with every step she got more and more insecure. Could she do this to John? Could she leave him just like that?

_Why, do you think he is worthy of you feeling pangs of remorse? He's not! He's an absolute jerk, who doesn't respect anyone, thinks only of himself, and is cheating on you with that pug-nosed bitch!_

Feeling encouraged to leave, she continued towards the staircase with more deliberate steps.

As she reached there, her glance fell upon a rather morbid-looking statue of a cowering boy. He seemed to be beseeching someone and his features looked only too realistic…

"Scary, isn't it?" a female voice spoke up behind her.

She turned around to see Jane Farrar. "Yes, quite. The sculptor must have had a weird sense of humour, but undoubtedly a great deal of talent…"

The female magician gave Kitty a cold laugh. "That wasn't done by a sculptor. The boy was a magician apprentice who brought shame on his master, so his master turned him into stone."

Kitty shuddered. "That's cruel."

"Cruel, like all of us, dear," Jane replied sharply. "Your John is like that too, I hope you know that."

Kitty crossed her arms. "Why haven't you broken up with him yet, then?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Jane asked challengingly.

"I don't really care whom he's shagging, if that's what you mean." Kitty shrugged. "I'm just curious what you find so interesting about him if you think he's evil."

"What, my dear?" Jane presented her with a vampire smile. "He's handsome, has a gorgeous body, and he's amazing in bed. Come to think of it, I really have to say thanks to you…"

"Me?" Kitty raised an eyebrow at the other woman.

"Yes, dear," Jane said in condescending voice. "You're keeping him aroused but closing him out of your bedroom, which means, he comes to me whenever he feels the need to. And tell you what, he used to be a good lover before you came into his life, but _now_ he's brilliant. And it's all thanks to you. Just keep it up, I'm not a bit complaining. As long as he doesn't shag you, he's doing it to me, twice as passionately as he usually does. It's a zero-sum game, dear: your loss is my gain."

Kitty felt a sudden urge to scratch Jane's eyes out, but took a deep breath and forced a smile on her face. "I'm happy for you, _dear._ Enjoy my husband while you can."

"_While_ I can?" Jane looked politely confused. "I fear I don't understand you… John wants me and needs me. _I_ can give him what _you_ can't. He knows that and is really _grateful_. Why, just the other day he took me to Venice…"

Kitty gave Jane a patronising look. "He took _me _to Paris and I haven't even slept with him for that."

"To Paris?" Jane's eyes bulged.

"Yes. He bought me a whole wardrobe of Dior clothes; we were on the top of the Eiffel Tower and even sailed on the Seine. It was lovely. And tell you what, John didn't look a bit cruel. He looked rather… cute." _Cute? Heavens, Kitty, you're defending him? When he doesn't even deserve it? Must be the rum punch, it was surely spiked…_

"Cute?" Jane frowned.

"Yes." Kitty nodded, forcing her face not to tuck into a satisfied grin. "He kept smiling and joking… I'd say he was kind of flirty." _Cute and flirty… am I talking about **John Mandrake** here? Phhh… no more rum punch for me, thank you!_

Jane was now gaping like a fish and Kitty had to bite her tongue to keep herself from laughing. She had to look away from the other woman, because the longer she watched Jane Farrar's sour expression, the stronger the urge was to laugh. Her glance fell upon a smaller door that led into the adjacent salon. Her husband was standing near the door, apparently in a heated discussion with two ministers. For a second he glanced in her way, and sent her a smile. She smiled back, but in the next instant the smile faded off her face. In the doorway, five or six metres behind John and his colleagues, a highly familiar little boy appeared. It was Jeremy, the youngest member of the Resistance. Kitty couldn't even wonder how the boy had got into the building…

She had seen movies in which scenes were shown in slow motion, and suddenly she felt she was in a similar movie. Something dark glinted in Jeremy's hand, and in the next second bullets were whooshing towards the nearest bunch of magicians: John and his two colleagues.

Kitty wanted to shout, wanted to do something, but she felt just as petrified as that unfortunate apprentice whose statue she'd been expecting a few minutes earlier.

Some magicians, who had been the quickest to regain their composure, summoned two djinn and an afrit that lunged upon the little boy, wrenching the gun out of his hand, pressing him facedown on the cold marble floor.

One of John's chat partners looked completely intact, the other was pressing a hand on his shoulder that a bullet that scorched. As for John…

Horror-struck, Kitty saw a rose of blood blossom on his white shirt. Slowly, he glanced down on himself, then, even slower, looked up to meet Kitty's eyes. He looked like someone who couldn't fathom what was happening to him.

Finally Kitty felt she could move again, and in a few quick strides crossed the space between him and herself, just in time to have John collapse into her arms.

**A/N: this chapter was quite short, but the next one will be longer, with some real Nat/Kitty goodness :)**

**Meanwhile, I've written a Nat/Kitty one-shot (taking place after Ptolemy's Gate), titled _Nathaniel's Gift_. Check it out!**

**Review, please!**


	9. Kitty Gets More Than She Bargained For

**A/N: this must be the quickest update ever, BUT ONLY BECAUSE I want to have 10 chapters up before I leave for Ireland where I won't have Internet access.**

**This chapter again contains a Harry Potter reference. Can you find it?**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _refloc, Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, Saldaen farmgirl, LandUnderWave, BobtheFrog, Rekhyt, Soccer101, Teya Yashitoda, Coruscate Corruption, Hugani, AmethystPhoenix1, 4everrandom, Starfire Gracen, gremlin, pi-fan92, Queen Dragon, uptowngirl48, baby-blue-angel91, Hello, Musica Diabolos_**

**Chapter 9**

**Kitty Gets More Than She Bargained For**

Nathaniel opened his eyes, blinked a few times and established that he was looking at a blindingly white ceiling. His glance shifted to his left to see a tube with translucent liquid dripping through it. He looked a little lower to see that the tube ended in a needle that was neatly stuck into his left arm.

_A hospital, no doubt_, he concluded. _But why am I in a hospital?_

His mind reeled backwards, trying to remember, but things seemed too hazy and the cogwheels in his head were working unusually slowly.

_There was this ball… Kitty wore a red dress… Red…_ He stiffened as the memory of seeing his own shirt soaked with blood came to his mind.

Someone shot me… but who? I didn't see anyone with a gun… 

He looked to his right and let out a small gasp. He had expected to see various medical contraptions, perhaps a few posters depicting the human circulation system, but the sight that greeted him was something he had least expected to see. There was another bed in the room, and in that bed, still clad in her gorgeous (but now slightly crumpled) crimson dress, slept Kitty. Her dark hair was spread out on the white pillow, and she looked paler than he'd ever seen her. Her left arm was dangling off the bed, and he noticed that there was a bandage around the crook of her arm. As though she too had been given an infusion… _But why?_ – Nathaniel wondered. And why was she here at all? And how long had he been out cold?

The door of the room creaked slightly and the young Minister looked away from Kitty to spot Ffoukes's head peeking in.

Seeing that Nathaniel was awake, the older man entered the room with a wide smile. "Good morning, John. Or, good afternoon," he said quietly, not to wake the woman.

"What time is it?" Nathaniel asked.

"Four p.m.," came the answer.

"Wednesday?"

"Friday."

"Friday?" Nathaniel gasped. "I've been out for three days?"

"Yes." Ffoukes pulled up a chair next to his bed.

"And… and Kitty… has she been here… all along?"

The older man glanced at the peacefully sleeping woman and nodded with a smile. "I've been trying to talk her into going home, but she insisted on staying until you woke up. And anyway, the doctors wanted to keep an eye on her as well."

"On her?" Nathaniel frowned. "Has she too been shot?"

"No." Ffoukes shook his head. "But she lost a huge amount of blood…"

Something clicked in Nathaniel's mind. "She didn't…? Did she?"

"You were bleeding heavily, John. Since your blood type is O negative, the donor too had to be O negative – at least that's what the doctor said. They were running low on O negative supplies, and your wife has the same blood group. She offered to help without a second of hesitation." Ffoukes sent Kitty an appreciative glance. "A wonderful woman. You're a lucky chap, John."

"I… I didn't even deserve that," Nathaniel mumbled. "She hates me… I've kept ruining her life over and over again, and… she thinks I'm an arsehole… she even told me so. She has every reason to hate me… She would have become a free woman and would have inherited millions if I had died… then… then why?"

"If I really have to explain that, then you're really an arsehole, my dear friend." Ffoukes chuckled.

Nathaniel glanced at Kitty and felt something heavy trying to compress his chest. Once again, she had saved his life when he didn't in the least deserve it. After all, what had he done for her since they got married? True, he'd taken her to Paris and told her once that she was beautiful, but other than that… he had been a complete jerk. He'd cheated on her, humiliated her and overall treated her like a second-class person. Heck, he'd sometimes been more polite to _Bartimaeus _than he'd been to Kitty! And she still saved his life. Without hesitation.

Nathaniel didn't know when he'd last felt the urge to blink back a tear – it had been ages since he'd last cried. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look as impassive as possible. Ffoukes might be the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend, but he still wouldn't cry in front of him.

"Who… who shot me?" he asked, just to change the topic.

"It was some snot-nosed kid. Barely eleven and an orphan. Jeremy Sparrow, he called himself. He's currently held in the Tower, waiting for your verdict."

"How did he get into the building?"

"He said that the one-time benefactor of the Resistance – Makepeace, of course – had given them some cloak shortly before he was arrested. A pair of sprites had been imprisoned in the cloak, making it and anyone who wore it, invisible. The kid had nicked the cloak from the Resistance Headquarters – the location of which he was naturally unwilling to reveal."

"So the Resistance didn't know about Jeremy planning an attack?" Nathaniel knitted his eyebrows.

"He says they had no idea."

"But where did he get the gun if not from his Resistance fellows?"

"He said he'd taken it out of his father's hand after the man had shot himself with it..."

Nathaniel shuddered. "The kid had witnessed his father's suicide?"

"Don't know if he did or just found his father dead… but he said that his father had killed himself because of a magician."

The young Minister heaved a sigh. "Why, what did that evil magician do?"

"Apparently seduced little Jeremy's mother, then, when he got bored with her, shut her into a room full of demons."

Nathaniel gulped, still vividly remembering his first experience with demons the day Arthur Underwood had instructed him to enter his study and bring him his spectacles. "Did… did the demons kill her?"

"No… but as she was shut into that room for days before her lover decided to check on her, she had gone insane. She then got locked away in a lunatic asylum where she jumped out a window. From the fifth floor. You can imagine…"

Nathaniel licked his lips because they had suddenly gone as dry as a parchment. "Do we know the name of this magician?"

Ffoukes shook his head. "Jeremy didn't know the name, or if he did, he wasn't willing to tell me."

"Do you think it's possible that it was Sullivan or Colridge? Those were the two ministers I was talking to when I got shot. Perhaps… perhaps the kid was aiming for one of them and missed?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't think so. Sullivan doesn't seem the type to seduce commoners, and Colridge's too old to seduce _anyone_. My guess is that the kid is a little disturbed and wanted to kill any magician he could."

"Any magician?" Nathaniel made a grimace. "Just my luck."

"Actually… if I were saved by such a lovely lady, I wouldn't mind getting shot." Ffoukes winked at the younger man. "I've got to go now and report to Deveraux about your condition. He seemed really worried. Tell you what, John, I think he has already chosen you to become his deputy as soon as old Weatherby kicks the bucket…"

"Oh, come on, can you imagine a nineteen-year-old deputy Prime Minister?" Nathaniel asked, while his insides were squirming excitedly. Deveraux's deputy! That would be something!

"Knowing you, John, you will make it. You're one of the most ambitious young magicians I've ever met." Ffoukes opened the door and was about to step out on the corridor when Nathaniel called after him.

"And Jane? Did she… did she too look worried?"

Ffoukes pursed his lips. "I don't remember what she looked like after the attack. She disappeared from the ball as soon as the ambulance car arrived. I've only seen her once since, and she looked indeed pale… so yes, I'd say she _is_ worried about you."

"Okay." Nathaniel nodded. "Thanks for visiting."

"No problem. Heal quick, and say hello to Mrs Mandrake for me when she wakes up."

As the door closed with a soft click, Nathaniel submerged into the flood of his thoughts. He couldn't express with words what he felt about Kitty's latest life-saving action (and what he felt for Kitty herself). He couldn't help but pity his young attacker, and was overwhelmed by the prospect of making deputy PM at such a young age. After all, Weatherby indeed looked like someone who was ready to 'kick the bucket' any minute. As for Jane… Nathaniel didn't know why, but he felt slightly annoyed about Ffoukes's words. He couldn't have explained why, but he would have felt better if Jane hadn't shown any signs of worry for him. _Perhaps because that way it would have been easier to break up with her?_ – he wondered. _But do I want to break up with her at all?_

His glance again shifted to Kitty and as he watched the peacefully sleeping woman, something warm started to spread in his chest. Something that he suspected was more than just gratitude.

o o o O O O o o o

It was dark outside when Nathaniel awoke again. He didn't even remember having fallen asleep, but apparently he must have. A small lamp was lit by the neighbouring bed, but the other end of the room was almost completely dark. He saw the silhouette of a person standing by the window, looking outside.

"Kitty?"

The figure turned around and walked up to the neighbouring bed, sitting down on it. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I suppose so," he replied. "I don't feel any pain."

"According to the doctors, your wound is healing fast. You were very lucky to have survived: the bullet went all the way through your chest. It went in from behind. The doctors were operating you for three whole hours and apparently they even summoned a healer demon to help your healing process with magic."

"Three hours? Whew, that's a lot."

She gave him a sad smile. "I think I gained a few grey hairs during those three hours."

"Kitty…" He took a deep breath to say something that had always been difficult for him to say. "Ffoukes told me that you saved my life. Again. Thank you."

"Anyone would have done the same in my place." She shrugged.

"I don't think so. You're the most selfless person I've ever known. You even help those who treated you badly." He bit into his lower lip, and remained silent for a few seconds, as if searching for words. "I… I didn't deserve your help, Kitty. And I feel uncomfortable now… being indebted to you. Tell me, how can I ever repay you?"

She gave him a reproachful look. "I didn't do it to make you my debtor, John. But…" She seemed thoughtful for a moment. "If… if you really want to thank me… to really show your gratitude, then… there _is_ something you can do for me."

"Anything."

"Release Jeremy from the Tower."

"Anything but that."

She jumped up from the bed, turning her back on him. He saw that she was practically shaking with suppressed anger.

"Kitty, that boy is a murderer."

"But he hasn't even turned twelve!" She whirled around and he saw tears glinting in her eyes. "Don't tell me you were any better at twelve, John Mandrake!"

Nathaniel felt as though she had dumped a bucketful of ice on him. She had a point there. At eleven he had started plotting the revenge on Simon Lovelace, and at twelve, he had caused the death of the Underwoods. They had been the victims of his pride and blood-thirst. He _had_ been a murderer at twelve. "I will think about it," he said finally, still not meeting her eyes. "But I can't promise anything."

Kitty walked up to his bed, and looked down at him, sniffing. "Apparently you don't think that saving your life was enough of a compensation for my request… so I'm willing to give you something else… perhaps that will be more persuasive." She took a deep breath and drew herself up. "If you release Jeremy from the Tower… I will sleep with you, John Mandrake. That's the most I can offer. Think about it." With that she turned on her heels and headed for the door.

It took Nathaniel a few seconds to regain his voice. "Where are you going?" he called after her.

"Home," she said coldly. "I just wanted to see you awake. There's no point in my staying any longer. Besides, I feel grimy. I haven't changed my clothes for three days. Good night, John."

Nathaniel stared at the closed door for minutes, feeling too shocked to think properly. She'd offered a bargain: her body in return of Jeremy's freedom.

_Had she really meant it? _– Nathaniel wondered. _Would she make such a sacrifice just to save that little boy?_ Then again, he reminded himself that Kitty had done crazier things, so he couldn't put anything like this past her. Undoubtedly, she _would _do it.

But do I have the right to expect this of her? 

He spent most of the night awake, fighting an inner battle with himself. By the time the first sunrays appeared on the horizon, he had made his decision.

o o o O O O o o o

Two days later, when Ffoukes visited Nathaniel, he found the young man deeply immersed in reading.

"Honestly, I still don't understand why you asked me yesterday to bring you the complete list of boarding schools in Great Britain," Ffoukes said, pointing at the papers in Nathaniel's hands.

"I wanted to find the proper place for Jeremy Sparrow," replied the young man. "A school where the teachers are strict but not cruel and where he can't wander around without anyone keeping an eye on him."

Ffoukes blinked in surprise. "You don't mean it…? That boy nearly killed you, and you want to send him to a boarding school?"

Nathaniel looked up. "Yes. At eleven, he's still young enough to form. In the Tower, he'd be no use to anyone, and setting him free to continue living on the streets and killing more people isn't a good idea either. He's a child, Ffoukes, and therefore needs rigorous education."

"Rigorous, huh? Well, then, I'd suggest St. Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys."

Nathaniel shook his head. "Having to live and study at a school that has 'incurable' in its name wouldn't be conducive to Jeremy's psychological development. I'd pick St. Dunstan's instead."

"Hmm… and who's going to pay for his education? The state?"

"No. I will," Nathaniel replied.

"You? But… but…"

"I know, the kid tried to kill me." The young man rolled his eyes. "St. Dunstan's isn't an expensive school, it's not like I'm sending him to Eton. Besides… it perfectly fits into Deveraux's PR campaign. The commoners will love it if they find out that a magician is paying for the education of a commoner child _who_ _tried to kill him_."

"Always the politician, right, John?" Ffoukes grinned.

"Right."

"You know… I suspect Mrs Mandrake too will like it…"

Nathaniel arched an eyebrow at his friend. "What are you driving at, Ffoukes?"

"Noooothing." The older man waved with an innocent expression. "I was just wondering whether… you were doing this for _her_, not for Deveraux and his campaign."

Nathaniel's lips tucked into a barely visible smile but he remained silent.

"Um, when are the doctors going to release you?"

"Tomorrow. I can't wait. I hate hospitals. Besides, the nurse is old, fat and ugly."

"You'd love Mrs Mandrake tending you instead, huh?" Ffoukes chuckled.

"I don't need _tending_ any longer," Nathaniel said grumpily. "I'm feeling completely all right. They should have released me yesterday! I'm bored to death here… Do tell, what happened in Parliament in my absence?"

"The amendments of the Magical Apprenticeship Act have been accepted. Besides that, nothing. Oh, but yes! Miss Farrar asked about your condition yesterday."

The young Minister made a grimace. "If she's so darn worried about me, why hasn't she visited me yet?"

"Oh, I too asked her that, and she said that hospitals gave her the creeps."

"Yeah, of course," Nathaniel grunted.

"Tell you what, John, with a wife like yours, you should forget about Miss Farrar."

"I gladly would… but apparently _she_ doesn't want to forget about me. She'd kill me if I dumped her."

"I'd still try it in your place." Ffoukes winked at him. "Commoner or not, Mrs Mandrake is worth a thousand Jane Farrars."

Nathaniel heaved a sigh. "I know that, Ffoukes… I just don't know what to do about Jane."

o o o O O O o o o

On Monday afternoon, after having received a few more shots of healing magic as the 'finishing touches', Nathaniel was finally released from the hospital. Kitty brought him fresh clothes and accompanied him home, though neither of them spoke during the taxi ride. Kitty seemed nervous for some reason and Nathaniel didn't want to ask her about it in front of the taxi driver.

"Home sweet home," he sighed upon entering his house. "How I've missed it… not to mention that there's no chlorine scent here like in my hospital room. Come to think of it, I need a shower. I stink of chlorine."

As water coursed down his body, he was wondering about Kitty's behaviour. He simply didn't understand her. She, who had always been brave and snappish, had suddenly turned shy and was avoiding his glance whenever he looked at her.She had looked apprehensive, and sort of embarrassed._ What got into her? – _he thought.

He found out half an hour later.

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty stopped before her husband's door. For a few seconds she hesitated. _Oh, be a man, Kitty! _– she chided herself. _It's not a big deal, really. Of course, if he looked hideous or fat or were sixty years old, then it **would** be a big deal, but… he's attractive, admit it. And more than that. You bloody well know that you're falling for him!_

_So what if I am? He's cheating on me with another woman!_ – the other half of her conscience reminded her. _Do I want to be just one of John Mandrake's whores?_

_Whore? I'm his **wife**! And I made him a promise! **He** might go back on his promises, but **I **don't!_

She smoothed her hair, took a deep breath, and knocked.

Her husband opened the door wearing a bathrobe and, she suspected, nothing underneath. His hair was dripping – he must have just finished his shower. He had never looked so cute, she noted to herself.

"Hello, Kitty. What are you doing here, wearing so… little?" He sized her up from head to toe, surprised by her appearance.

"Uh…" She nervously smoothed her cream-coloured camisole. "This morning… I heard it in the news that you sent Jeremy to a boarding school. You… released him from the Tower, so…" She ran her hand across her dark locks, not daring to meet his eyes. "I'm here. As promised."

He didn't reply for a few seconds, so she finally chanced a glance at him. His expression appalled her: he wore a frown and looked almost sad. What he said next shocked her even more.

"If you think I did it for that… Well, I didn't. I don't want charity sex. Good night, Kitty."

With that he closed the door in her face.

She stared at the closed door unblinkingly. Had he just… turned her down? When she had offered herself to him on a golden plate?

If you think I did it for that… Well, I didn't… 

Had he looked hurt? Hurt, because she'd thought he'd use her like that?

Kitty bit into her lower lip, feeling embarrassed. Had she misjudged him so much? Was it possible that he'd released Jeremy to… to make her happy?

_I don't want **charity** sex…_

But that meant he did want sex, just not as a payment… He did want her, she felt he did! Just as much as she wanted him... And if he'd only wanted her body, he would have taken it. But he didn't, which meant he wanted more of her… probably, he wanted to _make love_ to her, not just _have sex_ with her.

_Is John Mandrake capable of love?_ – Kitty wondered. Then, she remembered how he'd looked at her on top of the Eiffel Tower: warmly, almost lovingly. And before the ball, he'd looked at her the same way again and had said she was beautiful… It wasn't just lust, it couldn't be…

Something warm began to spread in her body, making a pleasant shiver run down her spine. In the meantime she felt as though invisible fingers had grabbed both sides of her mouth, pulling it into a wide smile.

Was it really possible he loved her? The mere thought made her tremble with excitement, and with every passing second she spent staring at the closed door, the more excited and exhilarated she felt. Before she knew what she was doing, she'd burst into her husband's room.

"John!"

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel looked at his wife, his blue eyes widening with surprise. Kitty was panting, but wearing the brightest smile he'd ever seen.

"I don't want charity sex either!" she said, her cheeks glowing. "But… I want you."

For a few seconds Nathaniel didn't know what to do, how to react, just stood rooted to the spot, thinking that she'd never looked so beautiful before. Then finally, a smile appeared on his face and held out an arm towards her.

She threw herself into his arms and plastered her lips to his, her hands running through his hair, pulling his head closer, deepening the kiss.

Nathaniel felt he was in heaven. He had snogged Jane hundreds of times, he had even been attracted to her, but with Kitty, it was different. Everything was different. She made him feel alive; his whole being was tingling with the sensations she was creating within him. She not only affected his body, but his mind as well – his every brain cell was stimulated, driving him crazy with desire.

That night, not for a second did he think of Jane Farrar.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: I really tried to not rush the romance, and tried to explain the development of their feelings. I hope I managed that… if not, then sorry. You know me: plot over emotion-development.**

**There's an illo for this chapter in my ffnet bio, in case you're interested (more precisely an illo for a scene _between_ this chapter and the next one – don't worry, it's only a PG-rated pic).**

**Next chapter: Jane freaks out. Until then: review, please!**


	10. Jane's Ire

**A/N: Almost 40 reviews on chapter 9? - _gasp -_ Amazing. Thank you so much!**

**I was very pleased that most of your wrote that even though the pace of Nat/Kitty's relationship-development was a bit too quick, it suited the story :)**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Four Strings, LandUnderWave, Musica Diabolos, 4everrandom, uptowngirl48, Angelnanoo, Rebel Rose, Duck Goddess, Saldaen farmgirl, gremlin, Queen Dragon, mewhoelse, Hello, Irisz, Aiko Moonchild, __XxBlackChaosxX_**

**Chapter 10**

**Jane's Ire**

Nathaniel had never yet felt so much at peace. With Kitty resting her head on his chest, playfully drawing invisible circles on his abdomen, he thought that the world was perfect. Something at the back of his mind reminded him that it wasn't, but he decided not to let such thoughts ruin the moment. He'd think about Jane and all the unpleasant aspects of their bygone relationship in the morning. But not now. Not when he held Kitty so close, feeling her warm and still somewhat ragged breath on his bare skin. It was too perfect to ruin in any way.

Suddenly her index finger stopped its circular motion and Kitty rose to look him in the eye. Even in the semi-darkness, he saw that she looked apprehensive.

"What happened?" he asked. "You look like someone who's seen a ghost."

"No…" She shook her head with a half-smile. "I just realised we haven't used protection."

"Yes, we did."

"We did?" She blinked. "How?"

"You might have wondered already how magicians prevent conception…"

"Yes, it occurred to me…"

"Well, there's a law saying that every building that magicians live or work in, has to have a contraceptive shield around it. Whenever a magician buys a house or any kind of real estate, he or she is obliged by the Magical Succession Act, 1878, Section 76(c), to put this shield on it. I too had to put the shield on this house and its garden, even though I was only fourteen when I bought it and it was highly unlikely then that I would impregnate anyone within these walls."

"Magical Succession Act?" She arched an eyebrow at him. "What is it about? Besides forbidding magicians to have children…?"

"It says that since we aren't allowed to have blood relations, our properties go to our spouses after our death, and after the spouse's death, it returns to the Treasury. The apprentices can't inherit anything from their masters, except their library, if they have one."

"And what if a magician has sex outside of a building that has this kind of protection?" she asked, and Nathaniel wondered whether he was imagining it or her voice had indeed sounded hopeful. What could she be hoping for, after all? Perhaps some day he'd have an apprentice and Kitty would get a chance to mother him or her, but that was all she could hope for…

"According to Section 85(d), the magician is obliged to perform a contraceptive spell if he or she 'accidentally' makes love outside a protected area," he explained.

Kitty's face fell, but she quickly forced her features to look more or less impassive. "Am I right that you magicians get all your powers from the demons?"

"Yeah, but don't spread the news." Nathaniel grimaced. "Why are you asking?"

She rested her chin on his chest again, looking contemplative. "I was just wondering – do the demons _directly_ prevent conception?"

"Uh… what do you mean by that?"

She chuckled. "I just found it hard to imagine a demon standing by our bed every time we make love... it sounds bizarre. And perverted!"

Nathaniel let out a laugh. "No, they don't do it directly. It requires a 3rd level djinni to create the contraceptive shield, and once it does it, it can be dismissed. Don't worry, no one's peeking at us while we're at it…"

"Whew, good to hear." She kissed him lightly on the lips, then withdrew, as if struck by a lightning. "But… John! I've just realised… I'm resistant to magic! What if the shield doesn't work on me?"

Nathaniel again had the impression that her voice sounded hopeful. He hated having to dampen her excitement, but it had to be done. "Don't worry about that, this shield doesn't affect the female. It affects the male."

"Oh." She again made a disappointed pout. "Does it sort of kill the… swimmers?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, it sort of kills them. So we're safe, Kitty. Here, or in any room of the house, even in the swimming pool."

"The swimming pool?" she purred, rubbing her nose to his. "Having a vivid imagination, Mr Mandrake?"

"You inspire my creativity." He leaned forward to kiss her.

"Do I? Show me."

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty stayed in Nathaniel's bed even after he'd left for Parliament. She snuggled herself into the soft pillows and smiled. She simply couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

If someone had told her before the wedding that two weeks after it she'd be sleeping with her husband and would be happy about it, she would have given that person a serious beating, resulting in a few broken ribs and a horribly painful shinbone. But now… it seemed all too natural.

She had never imagined that a cold, egoistical man like John Mandrake could be so gentle and loving… Before the wedding she had imagined him a selfish lover, one that only cared for his own satisfaction, but last night he'd proved her wrong. He'd been passionate, yes, but still careful enough, taking into account that it had been her first time.

Kitty closed her eyes, sighing contentedly. She could barely wait till the evening to have him back in her arms…

The only thing that bothered her was the contraceptive shield. She didn't like the idea of not having the chance to have a child of her own, ever. True, John had told her about the magicians having no offspring when he'd proposed to her, but then she'd felt relieved at the prospect of not having to give 'John Arsehole Mandrake' an heir. Now, she felt downright disappointed, and was surprised by her own disappointment.

Kitty had never been the girly type - she'd worn baggy jeans and dirty t-shirts all her life, and she'd never cared for any activity that was considered feminine. She had learned to cook and sew but regarded both as a waste of time. As for babies… she had never even thought of becoming a mother. Not until last night.

She didn't understand her own feelings. John had managed to completely confuse her. In the evening, on her way to his room, she'd felt worried and ashamed of what she was about to do, but deep down she'd felt some kind of an excitement too. After all, she had started to think of her husband as 'attractive' weeks ago. But having a child with him… she would have considered the mere idea ridiculous.

Now she no longer did, and the more she thought about never having a chance to be a mother, the more she wondered what a child of theirs would look like, if it ever had a chance to be conceived, which it apparently did not.

_You're being silly, Kitty, _she told herself_. Why does it bother you that you won't have his children? He's not exactly the father material, admit it. Can you imagine him changing nappies or reading bedtime stories?_ She let out a chuckle. No, she couldn't.

_I agreed to their laws when I married him, and if it includes me dying childless, then so be it. I can still have a wonderful life with John, so why bother? _

She got out of the bed, deciding to push such thoughts out of her mind. They weren't worth dwelling on, because they would only make her sad. And the last thing she wanted was to feel sad now, when she'd finally found love.

Her mouth tucked into a grin. _Love. Hah! Who would have thought? Kitty, Kitty, you're going hopelessly sentimental!_

o o o O O O o o o

Jane Farrar examined herself in the mirror of the ladies' bathroom. _Perfect_, she thought. Her make-up was just perfect. She looked lovely enough to melt any male's heart, but she only intended to melt John's. She'd heard that he'd been released from the hospital the previous day and she intended to make up for a whole week spent apart from him. Possibly a candle-lit dinner, then… She grinned like a Cheshire cat. How she'd missed him in her bed!

She made her way towards the bathroom door and was just about to open it when she heard a voice from outside.

"Ah, John, how nice to see you up and about!" It was Ffoukes' voice.

"Thanks, Ffoukes," came the reply.

"You look healthier than ever! Why, my friend, you're practically beaming! And am I mistaken or did I hear someone whistling before I turned the corner?"

"Hmm… it might have been me," said John's voice merrily. _Merrily?_ Jane had never heard him sounding so… chipper.

"Any reason for your happiness?" Ffoukes asked, and judging by his voice, Jane imagined him smirking impishly.

"Weeeeell…"

"Oh, tell me, John, did something happen between you and Kitty?"

Jane had to roll her eyes – Ffoukes sounded like a gossiping teenage girl.

"Might have…" came the reply, and Jane thought he'd heard a chuckle. _John, chuckling_.

She froze.

"Oh, come on, out with it!"

"Okay," John chuckled again. "It happened. And it was wonderful. All three times."

"Three? Wow."

Another chuckle from John.

Jane's hands balled into fists.

"And what about… Miss Farrar?" asked Ffoukes.

A sigh. A rather heavy one. "I have no idea, Ffoukes. Absolutely no idea…"

"Ah, John Mandrake!" a third voice, that sounded very much like Deveraux's called. "How nice to see you here again! You look a little thinner than usual, I hope they weren't starving you in the hospital!"

"Not in the least, Sir," John replied.

"Very well, come, today's session is about to start in five minutes."

Jane heard the sound of steps die away, and realised that she'd dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that they'd left ugly little marks.

_How dare he?_ – Her mind screamed.

"_Will you never touch her, John? Never touch her in ways you touched me?"_

"_Never."_

"_Promise?"_

"_Yeah, promise."_

Remembering this little conversation after John's engagement, Jane felt she could kill him with her own hands. But… what if she'd misunderstood something? What if the 'it' that John had done three times with that commoner tramp had been something… different? Like… playing chess?

Chess, of cooourse… 

Before she knew what she was doing, she burst out of the bathroom and stormed into the Chamber.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel clipped a tiny microphone on his suit jacket, in case he felt the need to comment on today's business, the war in the Americas, and was just about to sit down when a rather upset-looking Jane Farrar burst into the Chamber, hurried up to him and grabbed his arm.

"John, out!"

He couldn't even react before she began dragging him out of the Chamber, onto the corridor that was now empty. When she stopped by a marble column, he finally regained his voice.

"Jane, what the…? What do you think of yourself, dragging me out just like th-"

"It's _me_ asking here, not you, and it's _you_, whose behaviour we're going to talk about!" she snapped, poking him in the chest with a sharp-nailed finger. "I heard you talking to Ffoukes about something that happened between you and your little wife! Answer me John, did you shag her? And three times?"

Nathaniel groaned. This wasn't how he'd wanted to let Jane know.

"Answer me, damn it!" She stamped her foot, her eyes sparkling with fury.

"Yes! I shagged her, three times, and heck, it was wonderful! Are you satisfied now?" he barked, surprised by his own outburst. He usually wasn't the type to lose his head.

"You promised me you'd never even touch that little trollop!"

"Don't ever call Kitty a trollop!" he retorted.

This made Jane freeze, for the second time that morning. "No…" She shook her head. "Don't tell me you've fallen in love with her!"

Nathaniel heaved a sigh. "I'm afraid I have. I'm sorry, Jane."

"But… a commoner! A nobody! A criminal!"

"And a brave and wonderful woman! The most selfless person I've ever known!"

"Oh, are you implying _I'm_ selfish?" Jane hissed. "Me, who has given you anything you ever wanted, and any time, anywhere you wanted? Me, selfish?"

"You never cared for me, Jane," Nathaniel grunted. "Not really. All you cared for is my position and my talents in bed, don't think I didn't know! I knew all along! You never loved me! You didn't even bother to visit me in that freaking hospital!"

"Oh, just because Kitty 'Commoner Tramp' Jones visited you in that freaking hospital, it means she really loves you, eh?" she said sarcastically. "Tell you what, John, I don't think she does! I don't think _anyone_ can really love you! You're an egoistic, power-hungry arse, and she will realise it some day and will leave you! And then, don't even think of coming back to me! Don't ever think of-"

"John, Miss Farrar, please!" Ffoukes came hurrying towards them. "Stop this, or you'll make the front page in tomorrow's tabloids!"

"What?" Jane snapped. "We weren't _that_ loud! Were we?"

Ffoukes pointed at Nathaniel's chest. "I'm afraid the microphone was switched on. Everyone in the Chamber heard every word."

Jane's face turned from red to white within a second. "Idiot! Why didn't you switch it off?"

"It _was _switched off!" Nathaniel snapped. "_You_ must have switched it on when you were so vehemently poking me in the chest!"

"So everything's _my_ fault?"

The young Minister took a deep breath. "No, Jane. It isn't your fault that I've fallen in love with Kitty. It's nobody's fault. And if you excuse me now… I have a session to attend."

Jane stared at John heading towards the entrance of the Chamber with Ffoukes, her whole body shaking with rage. He'd broken his promise to her, he'd cheated on her, and to cap it all, he'd let the whole of Parliament hear it. She had never felt so humiliated before. And all because of that little trollop Kitty Jones…

An evil smile spread on Jane's face. John wouldn't get away without punishment. She'd ruin his life if that was the last thing she ever did! And she knew just whose help to use for the purpose.

It was time to summon a certain Bartimaeus.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: yes, in the next chapter Barty appears at last, and we can see his views on the whole Nat/Kitty/Jane triangle. Hopefully, it will be funny. I enjoyed writing that part a lot… At first I thought Barty would be hard to write, but I realised that it was very easy, he's probably the easiest-to-write character. Agi luvs Bartimaeus:D**

**However, you'll have to wait for our dearest Barty a bit, as I'm (hopefully) leaving for an eight day long Ireland-trip on Wednesday (at dawn, heavens, I'll have to get up at three a.m.!). It will be my first time on a plane (if our air controllers don't decide to go on a strike that they've been threatening us with…), so I'm really excited! **

**Wish me an accident-free journey and more or less DRY WEATHER (which is rare in Ireland)!**

**Just to reassure you: my beta has the rest of the story (although the not completely refined version) and my ffnet access code too, so should anything happen to me, he will upload the rest. But let's hope that I return safe and sound and can give you the 'refined' version :)**

**Until then, review, please!**


	11. I Spy

**A/N: my trip to Ireland was very pleasant, and the weather VERY DRY – not a single drop of rain for a whole week! If you're interested in a detailed report (and lots of photos) of the journey, look for message # 6159 in my yahoo group (yes, you have to be a member to access messages…)**

**WARNING: this is again a _strong_ T-rated chapter. Kids under 13, please click on the 'back' button ;)**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Musica Diabolos, uptowngirl48, LandUnderWave, Rekhyt, pi-fan92, Slytherin Daughter, AnnieThePipster, gremlin, refloc, EliasDaemonwing, Ayleia, AmethystPhoenix1, Hello, BobtheFrog, Saldaen farmgirl, livid, Four Strings, Perennial Rhinitis, Lumos2000, fikle, Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, Queen Dragon, __Krzysztoffa, XxBlackChaosxX_**

**Chapter 11**

**I, Spy**

I felt a familiar tugging at my essence. It could only mean one thing: someone was trying to summon me. _If it's the kid again, I'm going to eat my hat_, I swore, which would have been a most remarkable feat, given the fact that I materialised within the pentacle in the form of Napoleon, wearing that ridiculously big, triangle-shaped hat. Just for a change, you know. So that you can't accuse me of appearing as Ptolemy all the time. It was to show my creativity, which is boundless. Naturally.

But, as soon as I appeared in the pentacle (which, unfortunately was an Adelbrand's Pentacle), I realised that it wasn't the kid. It was a rather grim-looking woman. I thought I'd seen her somewhere before. She was eyeing me coldly, but her lips were tucked into a barely visible, evil smile.

"Bartimaeus, I'm your new mistress," she announced. As if I hadn't known. I must have involuntarily rolled my eyes, because her next words were: "Don't make faces, demon! And get rid of this ridiculous costume this instant!"

I sighed. The girl was starting to be more annoying than the kid had ever been, and I had only known her for a few seconds. Must have been a record. So, I assumed the form of King Midas (without his donkey-ears, of course) and waited for my orders silently albeit unwillingly.

The woman acknowledged my change with a little nod, then gave me a penetrating stare. "You have worked for John Mandrake before, haven't you, demon?"

"Might have…" I answered.

"Yes or no?"

I could have told her '_I've worked for **Nathaniel**, dearie, not John Mandrake, though at the end he really began to turn into the latter'_, but thought better of it. As long as she didn't ask me whether I knew his real name, I wouldn't tell her. I didn't like the kid much, but I had a feeling I'd dislike my new mistress even more.

So, I said: "Yes, I have."

"Good." She allowed herself a smile. Her smile gave me the creeps. She was a most unsympathetic person. Though really pretty. Unsympathetic but pretty – a weird combination.

"I expect you know _things_ about him, then," she continued.

_If you want to know his real name, ask it, my sweet, or I won't tell you!_ I nodded.

"How much do you know about him?" she asked.

"Well… not much." It was the truth – I knew his name, but that wasn't much. It was a powerful little something, but only _one_ thing. Other than that, I couldn't have said I really knew Nat. Besides the fact that he was irritating, selfish and had long, greasy hair. However, I knew I had to tell my mistress something… so I did. "I know he used to dislike taking baths as a child. Why, his ears were so full of earwax the last time I had the displeasure of sitting in it in the form of a louse… oh, and he's shy around women. Actually I think he doesn't even _know _what a woman is…"

"He _does_," she hissed, her green eyes narrowing. "He used to be my lover, but dumped me for his wife. And so I swore revenge, and _you_ will help me."

"Lover? Wife? Heavens, how many years have passed since I last met him?" I was really surprised. Imagining Nathaniel doing _that_… I had to fight down an urge to burst out laughing. Nat and sex. Now that was a hilarious mental image…

"He's nineteen now," the woman replied coldly.

"And you used to _shag_ him?" I asked with bulging eyes. Yes, I doubled the size of my eyes just for the effect. I had every intention to embarrass her. Which I didn't manage. She got red with fury, not with embarrassment. Well, at least I had tried. "Aha… so you did. He must have been good if you're so upset about him leaving you…" I was more than delighted to see her shaking with rage. "And do tell, who's the fortunate Mrs Mandrake? Do I know her? Surely a more prestigious magician than yourself…"

"She's not even a magician!" the woman burst out. "She's a commoner tramp! A little nobody whom the government talked him into marrying for stupid PR reasons! And he's fallen for that little tramp Kitty Jones!"

"K-I-T-T-Y J-O-N-E-S?" I spelled the words, as slow as possible, just to annoy her. "You must be kidding! The kid and Kitty? Kitty's a smart and brave person – pretty much unlike him! And she _agreed to_ marry him?"

The woman wrinkled her nose. "Unfortunately."

"But she doesn't return his feelings, does she? Come to think of it, I can't imagine _him_ having feelings for anyone… perhaps himself only."

My mistress pressed her lips so tightly together that they formed one single line. Honestly, red face, narrowed eyes and pressed-together lips didn't suit her. She strongly resembled a Fury that I met in Greece once. "I don't know whether that little tramp reciprocates his feelings, but she slept with him, that much is clear," she said through gritted teeth. "Before they got married, John promised me he'd never even touch her, and he broke his promise. I will ruin him for that. And you will help me."

"Okay, okay, you already mentioned that, no need to repeat things, I'm not that slow on the uptake." I rolled my eyes again. She ignored my expression.

"First of all: you will not tell anyone about my intentions to punish John. Secondly: as you – most disappointingly - seem to not know enough valuable information about him, you will sneak into his house and spy on him and his little wife." She said the word 'wife' with utter disgust. Or rather – with hate. I felt sorry for Kitty. "Every second day I will summon you, and you will report to me. I will usually summon you in the afternoon when John and that tramp aren't together. When they are together, I need you to be there, to watch everything they do and listen to every word they say. Understood?"

"Of course, understood," I grunted. I'm not a stupid djinni. If, for example, she had asked Faquarl the same question, he might have replied 'huh?', but not me. I always understand my orders first time around. "I will go and spy on them in their house, and watch and listen to everything they do and say. Um… do you realise I might be seriously corrupted if I have to witness a passionate bed-scene?"

"You're five thousand years old, for heaven's sake!" She stamped her foot irritably. "Don't talk about being corrupted – the likes of you have seen worse."

Hmm… that was true. And I have taken part in worse. Wars, for example. A battlefield wasn't a sight for kiddies, that's for sure. A little shag here or there might not upset my equilibrium, I decided. But seeing _Nathaniel_ naked… eh. I wasn't sure I was ready for that. But, an order was an order…

"Yes, I've seen worse," I admitted.

She nodded, and that evil little smile appeared on her face again.

"Go now, and make sure John – or anyone – doesn't notice you. I shall summon you within two days."

"I'm eagerly awaiting it," I said with what I hoped was a sarcastic edge.

Then I vanished.

o o o O O O o o o

On my way to Nathaniel's house, I started to feel sorry for him. After all, I had always fought on his side before, and now – unbeknownst to him – he was facing me as an enemy. And knowing what a fearsome enemy I could be, I had every reason to feel sorry for him. For the first time in my life. But I felt even sorrier for Kitty. I had always liked her – she was fiery, she didn't respect anyone (reminds me of myself), and she had the habit of beating Nat up. I was wondering whether she still did it occasionally. I hoped so.

It was late in the afternoon that I arrived at the house that I had helped Nat furnish. It seemed that it had recently been repainted – I suspected that the kid had it repainted every year to make sure that the London smog didn't affect the exterior of the building at all. I expected to see tasteless, flower-patterned velvet cushions and porcelain nymphs in the building itself. I remembered having purchased the tiles myself, and those had been horrible enough. The kid must have collected another few hundred bizarre objects in the last five years. I just hoped he didn't have a fountain depicting a djinni and an Arabian swan entwined in a lover's embrace. But knowing these magicians, I wouldn't have put it past him…

As I looked around (in the form of a fly), I established that the house was protected by a defence nexus and the usual contraceptive shield that you can find around any building that belongs to magicians. It caught my attention that the djinni who had conjured them, had done a poor job, because the contraceptive shield and the defence nexus were connected, as if the two shields had somehow slipped into each other at one point. The point where they were touching was tiny, but just big enough for me to know that I couldn't neutralise the defence nexus without disabling the other shield as well.

First, however, I needed to find out whether there were any magical entities inside the building, because this kind of defence nexus usually sets off an alarm that sounds like a dozen church bells on the fourth level. No one but magical beings can hear it, and only for a few seconds. It rings whenever someone uninvited penetrates the shield, and it also rings (just to show that it's still functioning) when you restore it after you had once disabled it. A tricky little thing, really.

I waited for an hour, extending my senses towards the house, subtly enough not to be noticed by a foliot or anything lower than that. A fourth level djinni might have noticed the search-impulses I was sending into the building, but I was in luck – apparently Nathaniel had no djinn in his employ – at least none whose powers equalled or surpassed mine. Not that I wouldn't have dared take on an afrit all by myself, but it would have been hard to get into the building if I beat up the poor afrit and it announced the attempted breaking and entering to the kid. He would undoubtedly double or triple the defences around his house, and I'd have to return to that green-eyed harpy with empty hands. I mean, without any useful information.

Eventually I established that the only magical being in the house was a foliot. That would have been a pushover for me, but undoubtedly Nat would have found it most suspicious if, upon returning to his home, he had found his foliot flattened or completely vanished (and come to think of it, I never liked eating foliots, they taste bitter).

Around seven in the evening, it turned out that it was my lucky day – our foliot decided to go shopping. He exited the house in the form of a middle-aged man, swinging a cute little basket on his arm.

I waited for him to get far enough not to hear the church bell alarm I was going to set off, then got down to work.

It wasn't hard to disable the shield – it must have been created by a third level djinni, and ruining something that was done by someone less powerful than me was a piece of cake. Not that I wouldn't have managed to disable a shield created by a fifth or sixth level djinni, I am Bartimaeus after all. I always find a way.

So, within a few seconds the two shields were disabled. After the ringing of the church bells died away, I wanted to get down to restoring the shields (once I was inside, I didn't mind that they existed, they didn't hinder me in any way), but something caught my ears that momentarily took my mind off the restoration works.

One of the windows was open, surely due to the extreme heat, and some kind of gossip show must have been shown on T.V., because I heard the following: '_Dream couple John Mandrake and Jane Farrar have broken up – apparently our Minister of Internal Affairs was cheating on his girlfriend with his wife.'_ The show's host, a woman with a rather idiotic voice, giggled.

One of my very few bad characteristics was and is that I'm curious. Perhaps a little more curious than is considered healthy.

_That foliot wouldn't be returning for another few minutes_, I thought, and took a place on the windowsill, still in the form of a fly. From my perch I could see into the room, though all I saw was the back of the T.V. set, and Kitty sitting on the couch in front of it, her eyes wide with surprise. Apparently she hadn't expected 'news' about her husband.

Oh well. At least I now knew that my new mistress was called Jane Farrar.

'…_and one of the journalists present at the session kindly placed the recording at our disposal._' the host continued cheerfully. '_The next dialogue is something the like of which you've never heard before – a comedy from Parliament. Sit back and enjoy, all you at home_.'

I must admit I didn't remember when I had last enjoyed myself so much. Kitty's eyes grew by the second – even her mouth fell open, but I could see that she was exhilarated. Whether it was due to the fact that Jane had very appropriately called Nat an egoistic, power-hungry arse, or because he had confessed to having fallen in love with Kitty, I didn't know. But she looked happy.

'_And now, our next sensation: a frog with three heads has been found in Kent this morning. Our reporter is at the scene…_'

But I was no longer paying attention, because I noticed that the foliot had returned, his basket full of ripe tomatoes. I hadn't expected him to be back so quick. There must have been a shop somewhere in the neighbourhood, otherwise it would have taken him longer to return.

This meant I couldn't reset the shields or he would hear the ringing again. I could only hope he wouldn't notice the absence of the shields and that he would go shopping tomorrow as well, so that I could reset them in peace.

Now all I could do was to turn into a spider and sneak into the room through the half-open window. The foliot hopefully wouldn't notice me, as I looked like a spider on the first four planes. If he was indeed as stupid as he looked, he wouldn't bother to check a spider on the fifth plane.

Thankfully the 'gossip show' ended shortly afterwards and Kitty switched off the T.V. and went to help the foliot with the dinner. She kept smiling to herself all along. I had a feeling that her dreamy smile wasn't due to the fact that my mistress had called her husband an arse. If I could, I would have shaken my head in disbelief – what could a nice girl like Kitty like about a jerk like Nat?

In twenty minutes the air was filled with the delicious smell of tomato sauce. I suspected Kitty was making macaroni. I once had an Italian master who ate macaroni every second day. On the rest of the days he ate pizza. All that pasta – no wonder he was my fattest master ever. However, I suspected that a few kilos would do Nat good, if he were still as scrawny as he used to be when I last saw him.

As if in answer to my unspoken thoughts, the door opened and Nathaniel marched in. He was still thin, but he'd grown a lot and had fairly broad shoulders. And – I noted with satisfaction – he had apparently forsaken the frilly shirts and bright red handkerchiefs. However, he still hadn't got rid of those ridiculously long locks! But, at least he no longer seemed to use grease on them. All in all, I could have said he looked good, if a bit worn.

Hearing the door close, Kitty burst out of the kitchen, a brilliant smile on her face. At her sight, Nathaniel too produced a huge smile. Though it was sickening, there was something cute about it.

They met in the hall in a kiss and didn't release each other for minutes. Hanging from the ceiling, I was starting to wonder whether they had grown gills or something, because they seemed to get no breath at all, they were snogging so hard. I was sort of expecting to see their faces turn lilac with oxygen-deprivation, but they were only slightly flushed when they parted.

"Come, John, I've made dinner," Kitty announced, taking him by the hand, dragging him towards the kitchen.

"You? Dinner?" Nathaniel arched an eyebrow at her. "I never knew you liked cooking."

"In all honesty, I hate it. But I saw a cookery programme today on T.V… some Jamie Oliver. His enthusiasm for cooking was pretty persuasive, so I thought why not try his recipe?" She sat down at the kitchen table, motioning him to sit down opposite her.

Nathaniel seemed to hesitate for a second – I assumed that he hadn't eaten in the kitchen since he'd left the Underwoods' house. Such things as having dinner in the kitchen must have been beneath his dignity. Stuck-up magicians.

Eventually he flopped down on the chair facing Kitty's and his foliot served their meals.

"Smells wonderful," the kid commented. "I must admit I didn't ever expect you to await me with dinner… but it's a pleasant surprise, especially today. It's been a rough day. Four more American spies have been arrested and I interrogated them with Ffoukes. They weren't much of a help, though." He made a face. "And I even fell out and broke up with Jane."

"I know." Kitty grinned.

"You know?" He looked up from his macaroni.

"It was on the T.V.," she replied impishly. "The whole conversation between the two of you."

"_What?_" Nat's eyes bulged (which didn't suit him in the least) and the macaroni fell off his fork. Of course, it wasn't a wonder if he hadn't learned to eat macaroni the proper Italian way… Honestly, it's not that difficult – you just need to twirl the macaroni around your fork while propping the fork against the inner side of the spoon. I saw my Italian master do it thousands of times. Even learned it myself.

Kitty chuckled. "Some journalist has recorded the whole conversation because you had forgotten to switch off your microphone."

"I know that the microphone had somehow got switched on, but… What a cheek!" Nathaniel fumed. It was an uplifting sight. "Now the whole Empire must be laughing at us!"

Kitty reached across the table and patted his left hand. "Let them laugh, John. I don't mind it at all. Actually… I would have loved to see Jane's face when you told her that… how'd you put it? '_Yes! I shagged her, three times, and heck, it was wonderful_'? Yes, I think that's how you put it."

Nat was now practically gaping at her. "You don't mind me telling her that…?"

Kitty giggled. "Why would I? We're married, John. Every normal couple does it."

The kid made a lopsided grin. "We aren't exactly a 'normal couple', are we, Kitty?"

"So far we haven't been… but I'd like us to be as normal as possible. And John…"

"Yes?"

"It was sweet of you to tell her off for calling me a trollop… and even sweeter when you admitted you'd fallen in love with me."

"Er…" Nat's face had suddenly turned as red as the tomato sauce on his plate. He shrugged with an embarrassed expression. I had never expected to see the day when he'd admit to having fallen in love with someone, let alone with Kitty Jones. I thoroughly enjoyed his embarrassment.

"Finish your meal, or it gets cold," she told him gently. "Besides, I have other plans with you for tonight than just sitting in the kitchen…"

Uh-oh. I had known it was coming!

The kid presented her with a kinky grin (yeah, it was definitely kinky), and continued his battle with the macaroni that just wouldn't stay on his fork.

o o o O O O o o o

As I had feared, their way led to Nat's bedroom, and I was bound by magic to follow my mistress's orders – that is to say, follow the lovebirds into their 'nest'. It began with lots of kissing and continued with clothes flying in all directions. One of Kitty's shoes had nearly hit the ceiling (and me, hanging from it).

I would have loved to look away, to put earplugs into my ears, but couldn't – first: a spider didn't have ears, second: that tramp Farrar had ordered me to look and listen. How I hated that woman! For a second I almost felt grateful to Nat for not having forced me to watch Simon Lovelace do it with Amanda Cathcart. Because I was quite sure they too had been doing it sometimes, though perhaps somewhat less loudly.

I particularly longed for a pair of earplugs when the kid groaned something like '_ride me, Kitty!_'. Honestly. His madness had manifested itself in him believing himself to be a horse. Come to think of it, I knew a magician in Solomon's court who had believed himself to be a camel and kept spitting all around. It was most disgusting.

To get back to the point, Nat and Kitty were loud. I won't go into details, as it would inevitably make my story M-rated, denying a huge number of readers the chance to read more about my mind-boggling adventures. And that would be a pity, wouldn't it?

So, to skip all the naughty details, they stopped it after about an hour (wonder how the kid managed to keep going so long) and, settling into Nat's arms, Kitty sighed: "I love you, John."

Mind you, after such an earth-shattering climax, I too would have loved him. If I were a woman. Which I'm not. At least, I always considered myself more of a male.

"It's Nathaniel," came a reply as silent as a whisper. I froze.

"Huh?" Kitty looked confused.

"My real name. It's Nathaniel."

If I had had a hand, I would have slapped my forehead. Idiot!

"Your birth name?" she whispered.

"Yeah. Here in bed, you may call me that. But here only."

"It will take a bit of time to get used to it," she replied, kissing his nose, "but I like it. Sounds more elegant than John. Even cuter. I love you, _Nathaniel_."

If I hadn't been in a spider form, I would have rolled my eyes. Apparently love had taken the last fragments of sanity that had still resided in Nat's head. Now he was just like any man in love: a complete fool.

I watched as they drifted off to sleep and couldn't help thinking that I had never seen these two people looking so peaceful. Back then I had no idea that I had already ruined their peace.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: review, please:)**


	12. In which Nat freaks out

**A/N: there's an illo for the last chapter in my ffnet bio. N/K from Barty's view, perhaps? (don't worry, it's just a PG-13 rated 'bed scene', not exactly naughty).**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Aiko Moonchild, Krzysztoffa, EliasDaemonwing, BobtheFrog, random dude, LandUnderWave, the Thirteenth Councilor, Alder, Queen Dragon, uptowngirl48, AmethystPhoenix1, Starfire Gracen, Lumos2000, 4everrandom, pi-fan92, gremlin, fikle, Hello, Saldaen farmgirl, DarkestKnight, squeejeefaxmachine, Four Strings, Fredryck_**

**Chapter 12**

**In Which Nat Freaks Out, Kitty Is Happy and I Feel Guilty**

The next two days passed without any incident. I restored the shields the day after I disabled them (Nathaniel's foliot, named Ugli, had decided to go shopping for carrots this time), and did it much better than the djinni who had first conjured them – my shields weren't interlocked at any point. I was sure Nat would have been most grateful for my wonderful work if he had known I had done it. Then again, if he had known I had done it, he would also have known that I had sneaked into the house and I was sure he wouldn't have been happy about that.

All in all, the first two days I spent in the kid's house passed more or less nicely – with the exception that I had to witness another five passionate lovemaking sessions. The only difference was that Kitty got in the habit of screaming 'Nathaniel' instead of 'John'. I sometimes wondered why she didn't just scream 'Nat', as it's so much shorter. But no, she seemed to have fallen in love with the name as well not only its owner and every time pronounced every syllable. And not only in the bedroom did she call him Nathaniel, but in other rooms of the house as well. However, whenever she talked with him over the phone, she was careful to call him John. Nat was a lucky idiot to have a smart wife who remembered which name she was supposed to call him in which situation.

Two days after I had 'moved into' Nat's house, Jane Farrar summoned me as she had promised she would.

I appeared before her in the form of a farmer, wearing a gardener's hat and clothes that smelled strongly of manure. She made a grimace at my smell, which I acknowledged with a toothy grin.

"You're exceptionally pretty today, _Miss Farrar_," I told her cheerfully, only to see her eyes narrow. "Oh, yes, I've found out your name. Too bad it's not your birth name, though…"

"How did you find out?" she asked darkly. "Did John talk to that tramp about me?"

"No, I found out from a gossip show on T.V. The whole row between you and John was replayed there. I expect half the Empire was laughing at you…" I gave her an innocently sweet smile.

Her face was so red and her whole body shaking so much with suppressed rage, that I wouldn't have been surprised if she'd suddenly exploded. But to my great regret – and to Nat's misfortune – she did not. She took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

"Report to me!"

"Um… what are you interested in?"

"Everything they did and said in the last two days," she said coldly.

"Shall I start with the missionary or the horsy?" I asked in a would-be polite voice. "I could say Kitty likes the former better, Johnnie boy prefers the latter. But they both like-"

"I'm not interested in their… bedroom activities!" My mistress stamped her foot and I again had the impression she was about to erupt like a volcano.

"With all due respect, you said you wanted to know _everything_…"

"Everything – except that."

"Well, Kitty likes watching cookery programmes and awaits her husband with something delicious every evening. Then they eat. Johnnie usually praises Kitty for her excellent cooking skills and tells her about things that happened in Parliament and about the American spies he and that Ffoukes person have managed to round up. Then they move into the bedroom. Since you've just forbidden me to tell about that part, I don't know what else I could tell you about." I shrugged.

"What are they _talking_ about in the bedroom?"

"Kitty usually says that she loves him, though I seriously don't understand why, and he usually replies he too loves her. Besides that, they mostly scream. Anything else you want to know?"

I hoped she didn't want to know whether Nat had told Kitty his birth name, because if she had asked it outright, I would have had to tell her. And I didn't really feel like telling her. Hah. I never thought the day would come when I was getting protective of the kid, but… miracles happen once in a while.

Jane Farrar gave me a disapproving stare. Apparently she wasn't satisfied with my report. "Go back now and keep your eyes and ears open."

Leaving a strong smell of manure in her room, I departed.

o o o O O O o o o

The next month passed without any trouble. My only problem was that every time Farrar summoned me, I had to wait for Ugli to leave the Mandrake house to be able to get back in. But luckily he was a foliot who loved shopping and did it every day.

Things were looking up for Nat as well. For one, I heard him telling Kitty about a battle in the Americas that had ended with a British victory. He and Ffoukes had also managed to incarcerate another dozen American spies, and I doubted there could be many more out there.

The Resistance had made only one smaller skirmish but – to Nat's disappointment – they had managed to escape. However, he tried to hide his disappointment from Kitty – I suspected that she wouldn't have been happy to hear that he was still dead set on shutting her one-time fellows in the Tower.

One evening I watched the lovebirds watching T.V. together. As soon as it was mentioned in the news that on his way home from Parliament, Deputy Prime Minister Harold Weatherby had had a heart attack that he had barely survived, I saw a barely hidden, triumphant grin on Nat's face. Kitty hadn't noticed it, but if she had, she too would have wondered why such news would make her husband happy. I didn't yet know, but found out later. Much later.

One weekend they (Kitty, to be precise) invited Kitty's parents over for tea. Quite irritating people, these Jones's, I'm telling you. They kept ooohing and aaaahing over the house (it wasn't that cool, honestly), and kept praising their son-in-law all the time. If I had eaten something beforehand, I think their words would have made me violently sick. After a few hours of the Jones's visit, it seemed to me that Nat was beginning to feel really annoyed by their presence. That, for some reason, made me much more sympathetic towards Kitty's mum and dad.

So, for a whole month I could give my mistress rather neutral reports about tea parties, dinners Nat and Kitty ate together, and once I even mentioned to her that the Mandrakes loved doing 'things' in the swimming pool. This made her scream 'Haven't I told you not to talk to me about such things?' I kindly reminded her that she'd told me not to talk about their _bedroom_ activities and the swimming pool was _not_ the bedroom. This resulted in her forbidding me to ever talk to her about sex. Too bad, I loved annoying her with that (and especially loved quoting Nat that Kitty was a thousand times better than that 'cold fish' Jane Farrar…) Eh. My masters always rob me of the chance to enjoy myself.

After about four weeks, however, something unexpected happened. It was a Sunday, and Nathaniel and Kitty had gone to some party to some stupid old minister's house. I couldn't go with them, of course, as I expected the house to be teeming with demons and didn't want to get noticed. Besides, Miss Farrar had ordered me to stay in Mandrake's house, so I did.

It was past midnight that the lovebirds came home, and I – in the form of a fly – was most surprised to see Nat propping Kitty into the hall.

"I can walk on my own," Kitty said, but her voice didn't sound too irritated. She looked rather pale.

"Just half an hour ago you nearly fainted," Nat replied with a worried expression. "Are you sure you haven't drunk too much?"

Now Kitty's eyes flared with anger. "I haven't drunk a thing, Nathaniel! I haven't drunk because…"

"It's okay, I'm sorry." He took her into his arms, kissing her forehead. "It was stupid of me to insinuate that you're drunk…" He kissed her nose-tip, then her lips. I knew what this was leading to…

Oh well. I suppressed a sigh and followed them, wondering what Kitty had started to stay when Nat had interrupted her. I found out the following day.

o o o O O O o o o

Still in my fly form, I was snoozing on the ceiling when I was awoken by the creaking of a door. I needn't have slept at all, as we djinn don't need sleep, but after Nat and Kitty had fallen asleep, I decided that I would only be bored to death if I didn't follow suit.

Apparently the kid had too been awoken by the creaking door, because he blinked, and looked around.

"Kitty?" he called, stifling a yawn.

Kitty didn't reply, because, from what I could hear, she was busy retching in the adjacent bathroom.

Nathaniel got out of his bed, pulled on his boxers (seeing him starkers no longer managed to shock me), and ran into the bathroom. Curious, I turned into a spider and scurried towards the half-open door.

Kitty had nearly finished throwing up by the time I entered the room. To my surprise, I found Nat bent next to her, pulling her hair out of her face while she was getting reacquainted with her dinner.

"Kitty… are you all right?" he asked finally. A completely superfluous question, in my opinion.

"Do I look all right?" she croaked, stumbling to the basin to wash her face. She looked a fright. The last person I saw this deadly pale was Cleopatra, right after the snake had bitten her. I had been working for the Romans back then. As for what I had been doing in Cleopatra's personal suite right before her death… don't ask.

Nathaniel handed her a towel, eyeing her with a worried expression. "I didn't like the food much at yesterday's party either. But it wasn't _that_ bad… I hope you're not going to be ill."

A barely visible smile appeared on her face. "I don't think I am."

The kid kept eyeing her in a contemplative way. "What did you drink at the party?"

"Just orange juice."

"I hope it wasn't poisoned or something…"

"Aren't you curious why I didn't drink alcoholic drinks at all?" she asked with a challenging expression. I already knew something important was happening. At last.

"I thought you didn't find anything you liked…" He glanced at her to see a calm, almost solemn expression on her face. "Apparently not. So, why, then?"

"Because yesterday I had a look at my calendar and noticed something."

"Er… was it the International Alcohol Free Day?"

Kitty seemed to be fighting back a chuckle. "No. I just realised that I'm two weeks late."

"Late from whe-?" Nathaniel began, but stopped before he could have finished the sentence. He was a funny sight, really. His eyes were bulging and his mouth was hanging open so much that I thought he could have swallowed a smaller foliot in one. Not that I would have advised him to try it. Humans' stomachs aren't tough enough for that. He'd be spewing worse than Kitty if he tried.

"K…Kitty… you don't think…?"

"I do think."

"But… but that's impossible! We were protected! The shield! It's been there all along!"

Yeah, all along, except for one night, Nat…

"I know. But…" Kitty shrugged.

"No! No, no, no, no! This can't be happening!" Nathaniel began pacing in the bathroom, running his hands across his hair. Within a few seconds his messy black hair was even messier. It strongly reminded me of someone who had just got an electric shock. He could have joined a heavy metal band, the fans would have loved his looks. But, back to the point – second by second Nathaniel looked more and more mental. If I hadn't have to stay hidden, I would have put a straight jacket on him, just as a precautionary measure. "Unless…" he continued, a haunted expression on his face, "unless someone had somehow managed to switch it off."

Actually, that was me. So what? Even the best can make mistakes.

"But why would anyone do that? WHY?" I think the kid hadn't noticed that he was shouting.

"Nathaniel, calm down!"

"CALM DOWN? How could I? This is strictly forbidden, Kitty!"

"Do you think I'm happy about it?" she snapped. Hah. I have always liked the snappish Kitty.

Whether it was the harshness of her voice or something else that made the kid stop in his stride, I didn't know, but he stopped and looked at her with an accusing expression. "Yes."

"Okay, I am. Or… I would be, if I were a hundred percent sure about the pregnancy."

The kid was practically hyperventilating. I thought he looked hilarious. "Okay," he said, taking a deep, calming breath. "Nothing's lost yet. It might be just some illness. Listen, Kitty, I've got to go to Parliament now. You go to a pharmacy and buy a test kit, okay? Go to a district less frequented by magicians, wear your old clothes and sunglasses. We don't want anyone to recognise you. We'll return to this problem in the evening." With that, he marched back into the bedroom.

Wow. The kid was actually getting paranoid.

I heard Kitty whisper to herself: "A problem, Nathaniel? Is the best thing you can call your child a 'problem'?"

o o o O O O o o o

On his way to work that day, Nathaniel nearly caused a traffic accident, and the first thing he did in Parliament was to stumble over the threshold of the Chamber. If the Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport hadn't caught him, he would have ended up on the marble floor in a most undignified way. The next thing he did was dropping the stack of memoranda that he was supposed to pass to other ministers. Ffoukes quickly summoned an imp to collect the papers, giving his young friend a worried look.

"Everything all right, John?"

"Yeah." Nathaniel nodded, and sat down, but missed the seat. Ffoukes offered him a hand to help him off the ground between two seats.

"No, apparently not."

"Apparently not what?" the young minister asked, smoothing his suit with trembling hands.

"Apparently nothing's all right," Ffoukes observed. "I've never seen you this jittery before, John."

"Ah, just… you know, Kitty's health problem. I'm worried about her."

"Oh, yes, I remember, she almost fainted yesterday. I hope it's nothing serious."

Nathaniel gave the older man a forced smile. "Me too." For a second his glance met Jane Farrar's, and he saw her eyeing him in a curious way. He hoped beyond hope that not everyone in the Chamber had noticed his clumsiness.

Five minutes after the session had started, he gave up on paying attention. His mind was too much concentrated elsewhere. Was Kitty really pregnant? If yes, how could that have happened? Was it some kind of an evil magic, or just the cruel joke of Fate?

"John, you're supposed to speak now," Ffoukes murmured to him, shaking him out of his reverie.

"Oh." Nathaniel looked up, not having the slightest idea what he was supposed to speak for or against. His eyes again met Jane's, and she arched an eyebrow at him. He didn't like that look in the least. In the past four weeks they had avoided each other, and whenever they needed to talk, they were coldly polite to one another. He had expected Jane to try to restart their relationship, to try to steal him back from Kitty, but she hadn't shown any signs that she intended to do anything of the sort. This should have calmed him, but he couldn't help it – he had a bad feeling about it. It was like… the calm before the storm?

He forced himself to look away from Jane and her challenging stare to find out what topic the undersecretary had been talking about, in order to be able to respond. Apparently it was an amendment to a taxes act. _Amendments_… Nathaniel's eyes widened. He suddenly knew the solution to his problem, _if_ that problem existed at all. He seriously hoped it did not.

o o o O O O o o o

It was shortly after midday that Kitty returned from the pharmacy. She looked rather apprehensive, and I didn't need to be exceptionally intelligent (which of course, I am) to see that she was hoping for a positive result of the test. Even if she hadn't mentioned her hopes to Nat in the morning, I still would have figured it out. Why, you just had to look at her – the way she opened the package that held some kind of a stick… her hands were trembling so much that she nearly dropped the whole thing.

Then she disappeared into her bathroom. I know it wasn't very gentleman-like to follow a lady to the toilet, but I had my orders, plus I was curious. I had absolutely no idea what she was about to do there. Forgive me for my ignorance in this area, but I have never before served or spied in a house with a woman who used a stick for finding out about her pregnancy. The female magicians of old times either used magic for the purpose or simply waited a few months to be sure about their condition. But none of them peed on a stick, that's for sure! What a disgusting, barbarian method. Like most modern things. Tell you what, I loved living in the ancient times much better.

But back to Kitty… after all, she's the one I'm talking about, not myself… Okay, sometimes I do talk about myself as well. Not too often, but… Okay, often. So what? If you have a problem with it, go read a story told by Faquarl. That would surely be short and dumb.

So, once Kitty was finished, she put the stick on the edge of the basin and headed back into her room. There she started pacing up and down, checking the clock on the wall every ten seconds. Finally, the time was up, and she practically stormed back into the bathroom.

From my perch I couldn't see the stick, but judging by the huge smile that spread on her face, it must have shown something that suggested a positive result.

She walked back into her bedroom (on rather wobbly legs) and threw herself on the bed. The smile was still present on her face and it was growing by the second. She was practically glowing and began to rub her belly gently. As if that kid could have felt it. I was sure it couldn't. Why, how big could it be after four weeks? One inch? Oh well. Women are like that – they can be tough, they can be belligerent, they can be real amazons, but once they get pregnant, they go soft. For your information, it's due to those thingies called hormones.

"Hi there, Little Nat," I heard Kitty whispering to her stomach.

Little Nat? Ewwww. One Nathaniel was just enough, but two… I seriously hoped that this kid would take after Kitty instead. In its own interest.

o o o O O O o o o

It was late in the evening when the kid arrived home. Kitty wordlessly took him by the hand and led him into the nearest room – which happened to be the kitchen. Nat seemed to be bursting to ask the question, but held back. Perhaps he still had hope that it had all been just a nightmare. No such luck, Natty boy. At that moment I almost felt sorry for him. It would surely be horrible for an insensitive git like him to face the prospect of paternity. I felt sorry for that baby as well. Having _Nathaniel _as its father… it might be luckier if it weren't born at all.

Kitty had told Ugli in advance not to be under foot when the 'master' arrived home, and the foliot had gone gardening. So the Mandrakes were alone in the kitchen. Just the two of them. Plus the baby. Plus yours truly.

Kitty pushed the kid onto a chair and took a place on another chair next to him.

"So?" he asked. Actually, Nat, it would have been nicer to ask '_what did the test show, my dearest?_' But if I had learned something while having had to serve the kid, it was that he wasn't nice and didn't say nice things either. He was rude and selfish, and… I really still didn't understand what this poor girl liked about him.

She reached out and took both of his hands. Nathaniel's mouth twitched. I knew that he already knew what she was about to say.

"Nathaniel… it was positive."

He paled a bit, but managed to stay calm.

"I know…" Kitty said quietly. "I know it's going to be difficult… and in all honesty, I have no idea what we could do about that law that forbids it, but… I'm sure we'll find a way. I know you're upset, but… I'm happy. Look at it like this: God has given us a gift. The greatest gift."

God? Well, that's really flattering, but no. It was just me, plain ol' Bartimaeus.

"A gift?" the kid echoed her in a sarcastic voice. "How ironic. Do you know what my name means?"

"Er… no."

He made a grimace. "Nathaniel means 'God has given'. I suspect I wasn't more of a gift to my parents than this child is to us." He turned away, pulling his hands out of hers.

She bit into her lower lip. "You never told me… what happened to your parents."

"Because I don't know. They grabbed the money and disappeared." Nathaniel glanced at her with a dark expression. "They sold me. They didn't want me."

"And is this why you don't want our child?" Kitty frowned. "Just because _your_ parents were idiots?"

"I don't have a father role model, Kitty!" He sprung up from the table. "Can you imagine _me_ being a father?"

She looked amused. "Yes."

Nat blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah."

He couldn't stand her stare, so he looked away again. What a coward. "Well, I don't. We can't keep it, Kitty."

I was expecting something like this. I always knew the kid was an insensitive jerk. A jerk who got himself into trouble more often than others. Why, if he hadn't insisted on that horsy thing, he wouldn't have been in such a deep shit. It was all his fault. Okay, okay, partly mine. But just partly. Don't make me admit that I'm suffering from horrible pangs of remorse, because I won't.

"WHAT?" Kitty breathed, and she too hopped up from her seat. "You can't expect me to terminate the pregnancy!"

Nat sighed. "I don't. We can't keep it as _our_ _child_. But I don't intend to rob you of the chance to be a mother. I've been thinking about this all day, and I've found a solution. A loophole in the law."

"What kind of a loophole?" Kitty crossed her arms.

"The amendments to the Magical Apprenticeship Act. According to the new version, magicians may get apprentices from orphanages."

"I fear I don't understand." Kitty frowned up at him.

"Okay then, listen to me, and don't interrupt. First: I buy or rent a house in the countryside where no one knows us. You're going to move there for the duration of the pregnancy. I will tell everyone here that you're having problems with your lungs and the doctor advised you to spend a few months somewhere where the air is fresh. You give birth there and we put the child into the local orphanage. According to statistics children who are placed into orphanages in small villages barely ever get adopted, so we don't have to fear that someone adopts it before it turns five. Once it turns five and I turn twenty-five, I will claim it as my apprentice."

Kitty was again chewing her lower lip, uncertain what to say.

The kid put his hands on her shoulders. "I know this isn't the best idea, but our only chance. We have to give up on the child for five years in order to get it back later."

"Everything… everything would be so much easier if you weren't a magician," she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. It was a most touching scene. It almost brought tears to my eyes as well. But just almost.

"If I weren't a magician, we would never have met," the kid replied. For once, he was right. A rare thing.

Kitty nodded, smiling through her tears. Nat pulled her into his arms. As she soaked his jacket with tears, I watched his face. I didn't remember ever seeing him so frightened, so lost, so… pathetic. Under normal circumstances it would have given me malicious joy to see him like this, but at that moment I couldn't find it in my heart to rejoice over his misery. After all, I had strongly – albeit unintentionally - contributed to it. Yeah, I felt guilty. I admit it. Happy now?

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: review, please!**


	13. Jane Finds Out About Nat's Misfortune

**A/N: I'm very pleased and proud **(and just had to share my happiness with you, especially because many of the readers of this fic are also Artemis Fowl fans)** that _Orion Awards_, an Artemis Fowl fansite has recently launched a fan zine and chosen me as their first ever Author of the Month. They interviewed me and wrote a longish article on me and my AF fanfics **(even the Bartimaeus fandom got mentioned, as I'm currently posting a novel-length fic here...)** I found the article really, really flattering, as no one has ever written one about me :) I put a link to the article into my ffnet bio, among the 'Artemis Fowl related links', in case you're interested in it :)))**

**The second thing I'm proud of is that my one-shot Barty fic, '_Nathaniel's Gift'_ tied for first place in the angst challenge on Bartiforums. com **(I deliberately put a space there, or ffnet would have stripped it…)

**This is pretty much a bridge chapter, I hope it won't bore you.**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Musica Diabolos, Soul-out-of-control, LandUnderWave, Saldaen farmgirl, Rebel Rose, Fredryck, uptowngirl48, Queen Dragon, pi-fan92, mewhoelse, Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, gremlin, __Krzysztoffa, fikle, BobtheFrog, azimataiji, Starfire Gracen, Astrensi, Aiko Moonchild, siriuslycute613, Kiriu, XxBlackChaosxX, Rekhyt, Four Strings_**

**Chapter 13**

**Jane Finds Out About Nat's Misfortune, Making Him Even More Unfortunate **

**(Why, What Else Did You Expect From Chapter Thirteen?)**

Ever since I had moved into Nat's house, this was the first night they weren't going at it like a pair of rabbits. They weren't going at it at all. They spent the night in the same room, in the same bed, facing away from each other, both of them pretending to be asleep. However, you didn't need to be a genius to tell that they were wide awake, the cogwheels in their heads working overtime.

I suspected that Kitty was disappointed by Nathaniel's lack of enthusiasm about their baby; as for Nat, I was pretty much sure he was scared to death. Mind you, in his place I too would have been. Yes, even the bravest, most noble creatures can feel scared once in a while. And I'm not talking about the kid this time (I'm talking about myself. Just mentioning it, in case you didn't figure. Nat was by no means brave or noble).

I was also trying to suppress my guilt over having caused them so much trouble. Having caused _Kitty_ trouble, that is. Why should I have been sorry for _Nathaniel_? He didn't deserve it, the jumped-up little wimp. No, honestly, he didn't deserve my sympathy. That's why I was wondering _why_ I was still feeling sympathetic towards him. I think it was because I have a huge heart and noble character. And definitely not because I liked the kid in any way. The mere assumption is an insult! So, remember never to insinuate that I am fond of Nathaniel because I'm not. Period.

I was wondering how I could possibly avoid telling that tramp (that is to say, my mistress) about the pregnancy. It was a problem. A huge one. I could perhaps lie to her that nothing of importance happened with the lovebirds, but if I wanted to be released from her service, I needed to give her information that she could use against Nat. And this child was just the piece of information she had been waiting for.

Pangs of remorse surged up in me, but I fought them back. I was a djinni who longed for freedom, after all. It is only natural that I would seize any opportunity to be released from the Tramp's service. Don't frown like that! Would you have sacrificed your freedom to defend a whelp who had caused you more trouble than your previous masters put together? If your answer is 'no', then you're a sensible person. If 'yes', then I can only advise you to visit your psychiatrist, as soon as possible.

Suddenly I heard a sniff. As I looked closer, I saw tears running down Kitty's cheek. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her nightshirt. I would have sighed if I could. Seeing her misery, I despised myself for what I was about to do.

Apparently Kitty's sniff hadn't gone unnoticed by Nat, because he turned around and gently caught her arm. She rolled onto her back, no longer trying to stifle her sobs.

"Don't cry," the kid said, reaching out to wipe her tears. "Everything will be fine."

"But you don't want this child," she replied accusingly.

"I… I… It's just too shocking… I wasn't expecting this… and I don't know how to react." Yeah, of course. The dumbest moulder would have seen through his lies, but Kitty only heard what she wanted to hear.

"Will you be able to _love_ it?" she asked.

Nat, admit that you won't.

"I… I will try. But you know we can never call it 'son' or 'daughter'. It may never find out we're its parents. It will be an apprentice, whom you can spoil to your heart's content, but I'm not in the position to show it much affection. In its own interest, I can only be its master, not its father."

"In its own interest?" Kitty replied, shrugging off his hand. "In _your_ interest, you mean."

"Kitty, don't start this 'selfish magician' thing again," Nathaniel groaned.

Why not? – I asked myself. She was right, after all…

"Listen, I know I'm far from perfect…"

Well spotted, Nat.

"…but you seemed to have accepted me like this. I'm not a good person, Kitty. I don't think I've ever been. Yes, I care for my career and my position a lot, and most of the time I ignore others' needs and wishes, but this is how I am. I'm simply not a family man-type... But I promise you I will provide for our child as well as I can. It will never be in need, and I will support it in its career as well. It can't legally inherit my properties, but I will make sure it gets a well-paid job, and-"

Kitty's chuckle interrupted Nat's series of promises. Promises that, knowing him, he might not keep.

"Do you realise you're planning about twenty years ahead?" she said, her voice sounding amused.

"Well…"

Kitty sat up, smiling down at him. "What you've just said proved me that you'll be a good father, Nathaniel. You don't want to admit it to yourself that you're capable of it, but I believe in you."

"Good for you," the kid replied with a half-hearted smile. It was obvious to me that _he_ didn't believe in himself being a good father. I didn't, either.

"Oh, and Nathaniel…"

"Yes?"

"Don't call our baby 'it'. It sounds so… impersonal. Almost rude."

"What shall we call it, then?"

"For now… _he_?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "She."

To tell you the truth, I was surprised. Nat didn't strike me as a guy who'd like to have a daughter. Snobs like him usually wanted a male heir, because they thought it was a much more macho thing.

Kitty bent, her nose almost touching his. "_She_?"

"I hope. I can't pass down my family name to our kid either way, so why would I be happier with a son when I could have a daughter as beautiful and dangerous as you?"

Kitty chuckled. "I love you, Nathaniel."

Phhh. I had been wrong. The 'going at it like rabbits' part hadn't been left out this night, it had only been delayed.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel seemed to be in a better mood in the morning, and one would have thought he had accepted the cruel reality, but I, who had served all sorts of hypocrites and dissemblers through the ages, easily saw through his mask of pretended happiness. I wasn't sure that Kitty too did, though, as she wasn't in the condition to pay much attention to Nat's mood, because she was suffering from another horrible bout of morning sickness. The kid again helped her by pulling back her hair and even gave her an encouraging smile when handing her a towel, but it was all just a show.

Believe me, it was. Don't you believe me? Then answer me this: can you imagine _Nathaniel_ of all people being suddenly overjoyed by the prospect of having to buy a house in the countryside, having to live separately from his wife for eight months (which entails a serious and lengthy sex-deprivation), then having to take a kid in as his apprentice when he absolutely _hates_ children? Now admit that you can't. What makes you think he _doesn't_ hate children? Just look at him! He's a longhaired dandy who loves comfort, beautiful women and ordering people and demons around. Not to mention that he's stuck-up, selfish and overall evil. Is this a typical family man? Is this your ideal father-material? If yes, then you really need to visit your psychiatrist. There, there, don't be upset, you might not be a lost cause if you seek help quick enough.

Once Kitty was finished with throwing up, they returned to the bedroom to dress. "You will need to buy maternity clothes, you know," the kid told her. As if it weren't obvious. "And the sooner the better. We have to arrange everything before you start showing. I'll buy a house and a smaller car to visit you over the weekends…"

Aha, visiting over the weekends! So he didn't intend to live completely without sex. How naive of me to think of that…

"…after all, no one in the village is supposed to find out that I'm a magician, and if I drive a limousine, it would give me away sooner or later. I too will buy a few simpler clothes…"

Jeans and t-shirt? I'd love to see you wearing stuff like that, Nat, I thought. It had been years since I had last seen him wearing anything less pompous than an Armani suit.

"…and you have to buy _simple_ maternity dresses too. I doubt if I will be recognised by the village people in shabby clothes, and you surely won't – the commoners might have seen you on T.V., but you were wearing a fancy wedding dress then. If you wear everyday clothes, no one will recognise you as my wife. You might as well dye your hair, just to be safe. But you'd better shop in a cheaper part of London. Wear your old clothes and sunglasses. We don't want any magician to spot you shopping for maternity clothes. That's all for now."

Wow, that kid really loved organising things and ordering people around! At least this time it wasn't me whom he was ordering around. But Kitty didn't seem much happier about it than I had whenever Nat gave me new instructions. She was eyeing him questioningly.

"What?" Nathaniel frowned.

"Nothing," she replied.

"Okay. See you in the evening."

With that, he kissed her on the cheek and left.

Kitty dropped herself on the bed, sighing. "Why do you always have to be so darn pragmatic?" she whispered, and I knew what she meant. Nat hadn't for a second asked for her opinion. He hadn't asked whether she wanted to move to a village at the back of beyond, whether she wanted to dye her hair and whether she wanted any instructions from him at all. Apparently Nathaniel hadn't been used to anyone opposing him. That is to say, he must have already forgotten what it had been like to have _me_ in his service. This made me want to grin evilly. And I would have, if I hadn't been in my spider form. To my great regret, spiders can't grin.

o o o O O O o o o

That day Nathaniel was less distracted than the previous day, but still distracted enough for Jane to notice.

"This is the second stack you've dropped within two days," she pointed out to him on the Parliament corridor when she found him trying to collect about a hundred papers from the floor.

Nathaniel looked up with a grim expression. "Everyone can have a tiring week."

"Funny," she said, amused. "Earlier when you had a tiring week, you came to me for a good shag. What, is your little wife no longer letting you into her bed?"

"My sexual life is none of your business, Miss Farrar. If you don't mind, I have work to do."

She stared after his receding figure, deciding that she needed to summon Bartimaeus. Something was going on with John and she wanted to find out as soon as possible.

o o o O O O o o o

I materialised in a summoning chamber as I had several times since the Tramp had decided to send me spy on the kid. Sometimes, mostly over the weekends, she summoned me at her home, but on weekdays she did it a summoning chamber, presumably at Whitehall. Every time she summoned me here, she put a shield around the room to make sure that no one would manage to eavesdrop on our conversations. I suspected she was afraid of Nat's influence and connections. The kid would manage to destroy her if it ever turned out that she was working against him. Jane Farrar was, after all, only a second level magician, and a minor MP, not even a minister without portfolio, while the kid was a fourth-level magician, a minister and the personal favourite of Deveraux's. Honestly, I would have been happy if once, just once, the Tramp had forgotten to put that shield around the room and someone had found out about her evil plans.

Yes, again, I was feeling compassion for the kid. He was a jerk, but still a bit nicer person than my current mistress.

I appeared in the pentacle in the form of a ballet dancer and pirouetted a bit. Swan Lake, my favourite. And no, I wasn't wearing a tutu. I was a_ male_ ballet dancer.

"Stop this idiocy this instant!" the Tramp snapped.

Oh well. Some people just can't appreciate art.

"Would you like the Nutcracker instead?" I asked with an innocent smile.

She didn't return my smile. Not that I had expected her to. She began speaking, her voice excited: "I've noticed that John is apprehensive about something. He has been distracted for days. Something must be really troubling him, and _you_ will tell me what."

"Why do you think I know what's troubling him?" I replied, observing my fingernails.

"You _know_ it," she said darkly. Her voice was filled with lust for knowledge. She made me sick, really. Most of the time I liked serving males better, because females could be crueller. The Tramp was no exception, and I hated her. But if I told her now what she wanted to know, she would set me free for sure. Sometimes a djinni has to swallow his pride and do nasty things for the greater good (his freedom).

"All right, I do." I made a pout, sleeking my shiny, blond hair. I was absolutely gorgeous in this form. It was a wonder that Miss Farrar hadn't fallen in love with me at first sight. (Ewww… I'll need to edit this out later.)

"So?" She asked, her arms akimbo.

"So… Kitty's pregnant."

"She's… WHAT?"

Yeah, I had been expecting a reaction like this. These magicians are really so dumb when it comes to reproduction. Why, Nat's reaction had been the same when Kitty told him she was late. '_But… but that's impossible! We were protected!_' Oh, come on. Had these people never heard of failed contraceptive measures?

"Pregnant," I repeated. "Expecting. Knocked-up. Has a bun in the o-"

"I know what pregnant means!" Miss Farrar snapped.

"Okay, I was just trying to explain, as you didn't seem to have understood first time around…"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely. Kitty's two weeks late, has been throwing up for days and even that stick she peed on turned blue." No kidding, I checked it in her bathroom after she began rubbing her stomach muttering about 'little Nat'. "And the reason why Johnnie boy is upset is that he never wanted this child and knows he has to hide it from the magicians as it's forbidden, and…"

"But… how could he impregnate her with the shield around the house?" My mistress interrupted. How rude of her. "Or… did they do it somewhere outside a protected area?"

"I can't talk about this," I replied with a dignified expression.

"Why not?" she growled.

"Because you, dear Mistress, forbade me to mention anything about _that_."

She heaved a sigh. "Okay, I withdraw that order. Talk."

I smirked at her. "All right, the statistics: total 64 times within four weeks, 33 of which took place in John's bedroom, 6 in Kitty's, 10 under the shower, 12 in the swimming pool and 3 in the kitchen. None outside the Mandrake estate. However, while they thought they were protected all along, they weren't."

The Tramp gave me a curious glance.

I made a grimace. "It was me. When I first arrived at the kid's house, I saw that the defence nexus and the contraceptive shield were interlocked – surely the work of a highly untalented djinni. I had to disable both to get into the house, and I sort of… forgot to restore them in time."

Miss Farrar gaped at me like a fish. At that moment she didn't look pretty in the least. Then, all of a sudden, an evil smile appeared on her face. In seconds, she was practically beaming. "That's perfect! Oh, Bartimaeus, I could kiss you!"

"I'd prefer if you didn't…" I grunted, taking a step backwards, as much as the pentacle would let me.

"John is trying to hide the pregnancy, huh? How is he planning to do it?"

I sighed. I was having a bad feeling about this. I didn't want to ruin Nat's life (okay, perhaps I wouldn't have minded ruining _his_ life a bit, but Kitty's I really didn't want to), but I had to, in my own interest.

Magicians have always been so nasty – siccing djinn at each other… but this was the first time that a new master of mine sicced me at a former one. I was really getting pangs of remorse, but I had to finish what I started. Freedom above all!

"To put it in a nutshell: he plans to take Kitty to the countryside where she gives birth, they put the kid in the local orphanage and claim it as his apprentice when it turns five."

"Really?" The Tramp looked contemplative, the evil little smile never leaving her face. "Which village is he taking her to?"

"No idea, I don't think they've chosen a location yet."

"Then I want you to keep spying on them and deliver me the location. And better, spy on them until they give their child a name. I want to know the child's birth name. Just in case."

Uh-oh. This definitely wasn't good. Especially because it meant that I was bound to this world for another few months at least. "Do you realise that they might not name the kid before it's born?" I asked, politely trying to remind my mistress that I was getting really impatient with this job.

To my bad luck, she didn't seem to notice, or even if she did, she didn't care. "So what? You'll deliver me the name after the birth, then. The name of the kid and the location of the orphanage it's put into. That's all I want."

"But that's another eight months!" I burst out. To hell with politeness, I was getting desperate to leave this place! Normally I wasn't whiny, but certain situations definitely require some whining. This one was one of them.

My mistress gave me a withering glance. "You will keep an eye on John. I expect he will keep visiting his little wife in the countryside, and whenever he does, you go with him, unnoticed. Should anything else… anything of importance arise, you report to me. And I promise you to dismiss you as soon as you deliver me the baby's and the orphanage's name."

With a rather morose expression on my insanely handsome face, I extended a hand. "Deal."

She didn't take it. "Go now, and find out everything you can about our John's precious baby…" She let out a sharp laugh. "Oh my, just imagine John and a baby!"

At least we agreed on one thing: the kid having a kid was a ridiculous mental image. But I didn't feel like laughing at all. Guilt tore at my heart as I departed from the summoning chamber. I had betrayed Nat and Kitty for nothing – the Tramp hadn't released me, after all. I seriously hoped that she would keep her promise and set me free when I delivered her the information she asked for, or… I didn't know what I would do if she didn't. I'd be mad, that was clear.

Feeling horribly sorry for Nat, Kitty and their unborn child, I returned to the house of Mandrake.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: reviews are most welcome. Next chapter will hold a bit of a surprise for you, so stay tuned :)**


	14. In Which Nat Shows Signs of

**A/N: I saw Superman Returns two weeks ago, and I couldn't help thinking '_hey, the new Superman looks very much like I imagine adult Nathaniel, only I imagine Nat with long hair!_' Black hair, dreamy blue eyes… yeah, the guy reminded me of my imaginary adult Nat. So very hot:))**

**The movie also inspired me to a Superman one-shot fanfic titled _More Than Life Itself_. If you're interested, check it out here on ffnet, but be sure to have a tissue at hand.**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Saldaen farmgirl, LandUnderWave, ebtwisty9, Fredryck, pi-fan92, Hugani, Mewhoelse, Soccer101, the Thirteenth Councilor, TheWatcherandReader, silver-moonlight-on-the-sea, AmethstyPhoenix1, gremlin, EliasDaemonwing, BobtheFrog, Queen Dragon, baby-blue-angel91, Musica Diabolos, Mistri, Tonks' Admirer, fikle, __Glitara Keladry Sophia, Pyshcodelic-Pixie, Apo_**

**Chapter 14**

**In Which Nat Shows Signs of Schizophrenia**

**(Not That I'm Worried About Him Or Anything…)**

Weeks passed and I was still condemned to live in Nat's house and spy on the little family Mandrake. To my relief at least I didn't have to witness as many naughty things as I had before, simply because the lovebirds were doing it less and less frequently. There was a certain tension between them, and sometimes I thought the very air was vibrating with it. Nathaniel and Kitty, however, pretended not to have noticed it, and went on with their business as though nothing had happened.

Nathaniel was working overtime at Parliament and I heard him telling Kitty more and more often about American spies he and that chap Ffoukes had managed to catch and about British victories in the Americas. Once he even mentioned that the Deputy Prime Minister, some old crock called Weatherby had suffered a second heart attack. He looked happy about it.

Besides his normal work as a Minister, he began organising things for Kitty's departure. He rented a house in some village called Fenny Bridges in Devon, bought a Ford Fiesta and a stack of 'plain' clothes for himself. I suspect that if a magician spotted him in clothes like that, Nat would claim to have thought it was Halloween already and he was dressed up as a commoner for fun. Not that I could imagine him doing anything _for fun_… besides sex, of course.

Kitty, meanwhile had made purchases for the later months of her pregnancy: maternity dresses in all colours of the rainbow, a winter cloak big enough for a pregnant woman, and even a few baby clothes. However, she refused to dye her hair, which started a little argument between her and Nat. She snapped at him that he was abnormally paranoid, and he snapped back that he was rich and famous enough to be paranoid. Well, they both had a point.

Nathaniel even summoned a female foliot and placed her at Kitty's disposal. Kitty refused, telling him that she didn't need a servant, but the kid insisted that she would need someone to look after her in the village on weekdays. The foliot named Enid was forbidden to talk to anyone about Kitty's pregnancy (actually, Nat had put a rather nasty curse on the unfortunate demon: if she ever told anyone about his wife's condition, she'd be reduced to ashes on the spot). Although sometimes I wondered whether Nat had a spark of decency in him, things like this persuaded me that he did not. But such things at least came in handy to stifle my pangs of remorse at having betrayed him to the Tramp. (Yes, I was still having those once in a while… I'm a noble creature, after all, never forget that!)

The Tramp had got lazy and into the habit of summoning me only once a week to hear my report. Apparently the baby's arrival had been just enough for her to start plotting something really evil against the Mandrakes and she was no longer that eager to hear new pieces of information. Not that there was anything I could have told her, besides the name of the village Nat had rented a house in.

Thankfully my mistress had so far never thought of asking me whether I knew John's birth name, but it was still bad enough that she had instructed me to find out and tell her the baby's.

Sometimes I wished I could somehow warn the kid and Kitty about the danger looming ahead, but the Tramp had been clever enough to forbid me to talk to anyone about it. Of course, I could have written it down and left it as a note on the kitchen table, but then I would have been facing my mistress's ire and possibly an Essence Rack, a Systematic Vice, or eternal servitude to this infernal woman. (Eternal in this context means: as long as she lives. Thankfully humans usually don't last longer than 80 years. Some die much earlier. I was hoping for Jane Farrar's early death).

All in all, things were going well for Nat in his career, but badly in his love life. I could tell he still loved Kitty, and I knew Kitty too was hopelessly in love with him (okay, I know it wasn't nice to read into her diary, but I couldn't help it – when I flew over her head as a fly, I happened to see her writing something in poetry format and just had to peek into it. Tell you what, Kitty could have become a real poet if she wanted to. She was writing a beautiful poem about the chaos in her soul and the longing she felt for her husband who, stupidly, was distancing himself from her. The poem itself was titled 'Chaos'. Very surrealistic piece, just to my taste). So, they still loved each other, but Nat held back from showing it while Kitty fled into the world of poetry instead of his arms.

Kitty's parents visited them once again in early September, and I saw the sadness in Kitty's eyes when she lied them in the face about having problems with her lungs and needing fresh air in the countryside. She even produced a few fake coughs (as Nathaniel had advised her beforehand) and looked rather guilty about it.

Finally, when Kitty was in her third month, they packed to take her to her temporary home in the countryside. I turned into an ant and took a more or less comfortable place in the glove compartment of Nat's Ford Fiesta.

"You still haven't told me why you chose Fenny Bridges of all villages," I heard Kitty's voice coming from the passenger seat. The back seat was packed with bags that I expected to be full of maternity dresses and various household items. On top of the luggage sat Enid in the form of a parrot. I suspected that she would be serving Kitty in human form, but there were too many bags to squeeze into the tiny car to make space for another human as well, so she had to choose a smaller creature to appear as. It had been years since I was so close to another demon, so I had to cut back on all magical activities to make sure she wouldn't notice my presence.

"In all honesty, I don't know," Nathaniel replied. "The name of the village sounded familiar somehow. I've never been there before, but still… it was familiar. Can't explain why. It just felt the right option to choose Fenny Bridges. Why, would you have chosen another one instead?"

"No," Kitty said with a sigh, "but it would have felt nice if you had asked for my opinion."

"Don't start this again, please," the kid whined. "I asked for your opinion on the hair dye."

"No, you didn't. You thought it was natural that I would comply without a word of objection, so I had to make it clear for you that it _wasn't_. I don't mind Fenny Bridges, but I do mind that you've been ignoring my opinion for months!"

_Don't stop, Kitty, don't stop!_ – I thought cheerfully. _Tell him what you think of him! Tell him what an unbearable git he is! It never hurts if he hears it over and over again!_

"I've only wanted everything to be perfect!" the kid snapped. "I was doing it all for you and the baby!"

"Your nose is rapidly growing, Pinocchio," Kitty said sarcastically. Hah, I loved her style. A woman with an attitude – just the perfect match for a man with a serious case of megalomania.

For a few seconds Nat didn't reply and I couldn't see his face from the glove compartment, but I could almost _hear_ him rolling his eyes. "We've talked this over already, Kitty," he said finally, his voice sounding tired. "And I've admitted that I've been doing certain things in my own interest, but… not everything."

"Just this," Kitty whispered, and judging by the creaking of the springs in her seat, I thought she must have turned away from him to look out the window.

o o o O O O o o o

As Kitty opened the car door, I turned into a spider and scurried out of the glove compartment and through the door into the garden. Well, as much as it could be called a garden, as its fence was missing at certain places. The house itself was tiny, but looked clean and nice. There weren't any houses in the vicinity – the next one seemed to be half a kilometre away. Nat couldn't have picked a house more isolated from the rest of the village.

Well, I liked the surroundings at least. There were apple trees growing around, all of them packed with ripe, red apples. It was October, just the right season for picking them.

Bushes with orange-yellow leaves were scattered around the house, and beyond them, only plains could be seen as long as the eye could reach. It was a peaceful and silent place. Too silent for a girl like Kitty who'd spent all her life in London.

Enid the parrot flew out of the car and turned into a maid in her forties, wearing a nice little frilly apron. As for Nat… I was sorry that in my spider form I couldn't laugh. Because he _was_ a laugh. I hadn't seen him in the morning because I had taken my place in the glove compartment before he and Kitty got into the car, so I was surprised (rather shocked) by the kid's attire. He wore a striped flannel shirt that wasn't tucked into his jeans and he had bound his ridiculously long hair into a ponytail. At that moment I could easily have imagined him milking a cow. He looked rather uneasy about his clothes, but I thought he still looked much better than in those boring designer suits.

We entered the house (I slipped under the door after Nat had slammed it in my 'face'). On the inside it looked just as small and just as tidy as on the outside. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom and a small pantry. Just how a peasant's house was supposed to look. Thankfully it had electricity and hot water and even a tiny television. There was no telephone, though, so the kid had got Kitty a mobile phone to call him if she needed something or if something was wrong. I was wondering whether I had been imagining things when he'd said 'call me if something's wrong', because I thought I had seen a hopeful glint in his eyes.

What kind of a hopeful glint, you may ask? Well, a hopeful glint that proved what an insensitive, evil git he was. I was pretty much sure he was hoping for Kitty's miscarriage. Which, at this point, when she was already three months along, would have been more dangerous than it had been weeks and weeks earlier.

It even came to my mind that he could have taken his wife abroad, to a country with no magicians, where no one knew them, and placed her into a well equipped maternity home where she would be cared for. But no, the kid took her to the back of beyond where it would be a miracle if she managed to carry the baby to term without complications. I had the impression that Kitty too was thinking along these lines (okay, it wasn't just a guess, I again looked into her diary, bad, bad Bartimaeus), but she hadn't mentioned it to her husband.

Why? - you must be wondering… Well, her diary gave me answers for this as well. She wrote that she knew that her John (she kept referring to him as John in case the diary got into wrong hands) didn't want the baby. She wrote that sometimes she had thought he didn't mind them having a child, but again and again her hopes had got deflated like a punctured balloon (yeah, she used this metaphor, I'm not making it up). Kitty's latest diary entries had been full of pain and hopelessness.

_At the beginning_, she had written, _I was full of hope that he would eventually soften at the prospect of having a child, and at first he indeed looked as if he had, but as the weeks passed, he distanced himself more and more from me, and not only from me, but from our baby as well. He's organising everything to be 'perfect', or at least he pretends to, but I fear he'd be happy if I miscarried. He wants this burden off his shoulders. I wanted to go for a pregnancy check-up, to find out if everything was all right with the baby, but he forbade me to, saying that people would recognise me if I went for the check-up with the papers of 'Kathleen Mandrake', and he was too busy to get forged papers for me at the moment. He said I could get a check-up in the village, the local doctor surely wouldn't insist on papers for an examination. I'm losing hope. If_ _John's aim is that I lose the baby, well, then let him have it, I won't do anything against it. It would still be better than giving birth to a child whom he'd never love._

So there, that's John Mandrake for you. No, not Nathaniel. John. Because, after the short period of 'living happily with Kitty as Nathaniel', John Mandrake was again taking over in him. He was turning back into the cruel git he must have been before Kitty's love had temporarily melted the ice around his heart (wow, aren't I a great poet myself?). Nat's life seemed to have seasons, just like the year – in summer he had been happy with Kitty, but in autumn he started to turn cold. I didn't want to imagine what he'd be like in winter.

"Well, nice place," Kitty said, looking around. I saw that she wasn't very enthusiastic about the house, but she didn't detest it either. It was really cosy, after all.

"Yes, isn't it?" the kid replied casually. "I just hope your parents don't get the idea of visiting you here…"

Kitty gave him a dark glance. "They won't. I told them the doctor advised me not to have any visitors over the months of my… _recuperation_."

"Good." Nathaniel nodded. "You're getting good at this."

"Lying, you mean?" she said with an accusatory edge. "You have no idea how much I hate doing it."

"You know it's necessary. Your parents might let it slip to someone, and then… my career would be over."

This made something snap in Kitty. "To hell with your career, and to hell with you too, John! I'm fed up with lying to the whole world, and keeping their grandchild a secret from my parents just because of your fucking magician pride!"

Way to go, Kitty.

"You don't care for anything and anyone, just yourself, and you want to have anything that could hinder your damn career out of the way! The baby, me, my pare…" She suddenly stopped and grabbed her midsection, all the blood draining from her face. In the next instant she slumped into Nat's arms, unconscious.

I don't remember ever seeing the kid this frightened before. Yeah, I had seen him scared a couple of times, like when we were fleeing from the Underwoods' house or from our pursuers in Prague, but none of those came close to the expression he was wearing at the moment.

"E… Enid!" he called, his voice wavering. "Go, get a doctor! No, you'd better stay with her, I will go for the doctor!"

He laid Kitty on the sofa and ran out of the house. As my orders had been to follow him wherever he went, I turned into a fly and flew after him.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel jumped into the Ford Fiesta and drove into the village. On foot it might have taken him at least six-seven minutes to get into the centre of the village, even if he had run flat out. This way he was in the centre in about a minute, looking desperately around for help. The streets were deserted except for a middle-aged woman leading half a dozen children.

His heart beating against his ribcage, Nathaniel drove the car next to the little group and rolled down the window. "Excuse me, where can I find the local doctor?" he asked the middle-aged woman.

The woman just stared at him, her eyes wide.

"The local doctor, madam," Nathaniel repeated, his voice wavering with nervousness. If Kitty miscarried, it would be his fault. _Why, wouldn't you be happy if she lost the baby? One problem less_, a nasty little voice in his mind kept asking him, but he decided to ignore it. There had been times when he found the idea of a miscarriage 'the best and less painful' solution, but now that there was a chance it could really happen, despair tore at his heart with a hundred icy fingers. He still didn't want the child, but Kitty did, and she'd be broken if she lost it… He had to save the baby, for Kitty's sake. And this stupid woman was just staring at him, unblinkingly, as though she were seeing a ghost… "Where – can – I – find – him?"

The woman seemed to have been shaken back to reality. "Drive down this street… there, where you see that house with the green fence, turn left… and drive till you reach a house painted yellow. That's where the doctor lives."

"Thanks." Nathaniel didn't even give the woman a second glance and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty opened her eyes, blinking tiredly. The first thing she spotted was Nathaniel's worried face looming over her. She looked around, establishing that she was lying in a bed in some bedroom – presumably in the house they were renting. The room was completely unfamiliar, because she hadn't had a chance to look at the two bedrooms before she fainted.

_Fainted?_ – She frowned, trying to remember. Suddenly everything came rushing back to her: their arrival at Fenny Bridges, the row, the pain… then blackness.

"Have I… lost the baby?" she croaked.

Holding her hand in his, he shook his head, smiling and… crying? Kitty had never seen him cry.

"Bet you're sorry about that…" she whispered, her eyes radiating sadness.

"No, don't say things like that." He held her hand even more firmly, as if never wanting to let go of it. "Everything's fine, my love. You got a shock, nothing more serious. The baby's healthy, the doctor has examined you. But you scared me, silly… don't ever do that again."

"Don't ever _make me_ do it again," she replied with a small smile. "Go, wash your face, you look a fright."

Nathaniel let out a chuckle of relief. "Will do." He leaned closer. "Just don't ever tell anyone in Parliament you saw me crying… I'd never live it down." He gently kissed her on the lips and walked out of the room.

The doctor, a friendly, white-bearded man in his sixties, was packing his things in the living room. Seeing Nathaniel enter, he gave him a smile. "I'm leaving this vial here, it's a small but effective vitamin concentrate. Three drops a day will make your wife healthy and strong in no time, Mr… Er, I think you forgot to tell me your name in the rush."

"Jones," Nathaniel replied. "Arthur Jones."

"Well, then, Mr Jones, take care of your wife. And if you intend to stay here for a longer time, then make sure she visits me at least once in every two weeks. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Doctor. And thank you."

o o o O O O o o o

In all honesty, the kid's latest 'performance' surprised me. Just half an hour earlier I was firm in the belief that he was evil and wouldn't have minded being the cause of his own child's death, but now… I no longer knew what to think. I didn't remember ever having seen him cry. When Mrs Underwood died, he'd been on the verge of tears, but he couldn't – or didn't want to – cry. And now? He was weeping like a little girl.

The more time I spent spying on him, the less I understood him. I had never met a more contradictory figure. As if there had been two different personalities living and fighting inside him: Nathaniel and John. They were winning over each other in a rather random pattern. The kid could change from Nathaniel to John and back to Nathaniel within a few minutes. It was astounding, really.

I watched from the window (in the form of a moth) as the doc walked down the garden path, onto the road that led back into the village. And then, I noticed something else as well. Behind an apple tree, stood a lithe figure. It also seemed to be watching the doctor walk down the road, as if it had been waiting for him to leave. When the doc was out of sight, the figure moved. It was heading for the house. I had half a mind to draw Enid's attention to the source of danger, but later I was happy I hadn't. Well, happy for a few minutes only. Because when I looked back on the events of this day years and years later, I couldn't help thinking that both Nathaniel and Kitty would have been luckier if they had lost their baby today.

The closer the figure came, the more familiar it seemed. No, it wasn't Faquarl, I checked all seven planes. It was a human, and one whom I had seen that day already. The woman from the village. The one who had been walking with all those children. The one who had given Nat such a curious glance. I wondered what she wanted here…

There was a knock on the door. Nathaniel emerged from the bathroom, his face no longer streaked with tears, but his eyes still somewhat bloodshot. He walked deliberately to the door, clearly in the belief that the doctor had left something here by mistake.

"Er… may I help you?" the kid asked, looking rather confused by seeing this woman over again.

She just stared at him, the same way she had in the village. Besides the haunted look in her eyes, she was really sympathetic. She looked around forty, had long, black hair streaked with grey, and there was something familiar about her. And not only because I had already seen her in the village. She resembled someone. But whom? – I asked myself. No matter how much I racked by brains, I couldn't find out. But I didn't even need to, as it turned out a few seconds later.

Her hands nervously wrinkling her shawl, her dark brown eyes never leaving the kid's face, she uttered one single word: "_Nathaniel?_"

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: since many of the readers of this fic come from the Artemis Fowl fandom, I have a question for you guys. Orion Awards, an AF fansite has asked me to write an article a month for their fan zine. They said the articles could be about Artemis Fowl or just fanfiction in general, whatever I like.  
I'm wondering what the average AF fan - or just the average fanfic reader - would be interested in. In my yahoo group people told me that they'd be interested in reading articles about tricks in writing exciting/interesting fics and tips in how to become famous in a fandom, but I don't know the opinion of the AF fans (people in my group are not exactly AF fans). So AF people, please help me out. In your reviews, besides telling me your opinion on this chapter, you could give me ideas for the articles. I'd be really grateful if you did :)**


	15. The Yeti, the Butterfly and the Vampire

**A/N: I wanted to update earlier, but ffnet was having problems, and I decided to wait until the site was fully operational again.**

**The first part of my article for the Orion Awards fan zine is up. It's going to be a five-part article series giving advice on how to write successful fanfics (especially novel-length ones). You can find the first part by clicking on the link in the Artemis Fowl related links part of my ffnet bio.**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Saldaen farmgirl, __Pyshcodelic-Pixie, Lumos2000, Rebel Rose, uptowngirl48, Mewhoelse, Duck Goddess, HPLB, Queen Dragon, Apo, Fredryck, XxBlackChaosxX, Starfire Gracen, the Thirteenth Councilor, Hello, Aiko Moonchild_**

**Chapter 15**

**The Yeti, the Butterfly and the Vampire**

Nathaniel didn't remember when he'd last been this shocked. A woman, a complete stranger, had just called him by his birth name. How? Why? What kind of an evil joke was this?

After a few seconds of silence, the woman swallowed hard. "You… you _are_ Nathaniel, aren't you?"

"Who are you to call me that?" He frowned, trying to look as calm as possible, while he felt as though his heart had jumped into his throat, beating so fervently that he could hardly breathe.

The woman's hands were still crumpling her shawl, and both of them were trembling with nervousness. "If… if you _are_ Nathaniel, then… I'm your mother."

The young man took a step backwards, as though he'd been slapped with something big and hard. All the blood had drained from his face and he looked paler than Kitty had after she'd fainted. He shook his head. "You can't be. I have no parents."

"You just don't remember me," the woman said in a shaky voice. "You were too small when…"

"When you _sold me_?" Nathaniel said darkly.

Tears welled up in the woman's eyes. "So it's really you… Oh, Nathaniel…"

Before he could have done anything, she lunged at him and hugged him, burying her face into his flannel shirt, crying. Feeling petrified, Nathaniel stared down at the weeping woman - the woman whose face and name he didn't even remember. The woman who had been heartless enough to give him away at the tender age of five. The woman who'd sold him as though he were a slave or a dog or an object without feelings…

Pictures and feelings rushed back to him. _A five-year-old little boy sitting silently at the back of a magician's car, staring out the_ _window, not being able to comprehend what was happening to him… The same little boy hugging his legs by the kitchen fireplace, while a friendly, elderly woman was trying to coax a few words out of him… _But he'd been too much in shock to speak. He'd been pushed away by his family and dumped into a new and scary world… He'd been sold.

Hate surged up in him, and he shoved the woman away with one quick move. She swayed, almost fell, but didn't turn and run away. Instead she only looked at him with teary eyes that beseeched him to… forgive her?

"Out," Nathaniel hissed.

"Son…"

"I said: OUT!"

The woman didn't budge. Seconds passed. Mother and son were eyeing each other – the former with a pained but hopeful expression, the latter with contempt.

Suddenly the door of one of the bedrooms creaked, and Kitty came out. Her face was still pale, but she seemed strong enough to walk without help. She looked at the woman, then at her husband. "John, what…?"

"No need to call me John before her," Nathaniel said through gritted teeth. "She knows my name, as apparently, she's my _mother_."

"Your… what?" Kitty blinked. Her gaze shifted back to the woman, and seeing her tear-filled eyes, her heart clenched. Could this be a cruel person who hated her own child enough to sell him? Kitty's heart replied 'no'. Whatever had happened to this woman, whatever the reason was why she'd given up on her son, it couldn't be evil. Kitty could see it in her eyes that were radiating guilt, hope and love. "I'm Kitty," she said. "Nathaniel's wife. What's your name?"

"Esther," the woman replied. "Esther Dawson."

"Dawson?" Nathaniel said coldly. "So that was my family name? I forgot. Not much of a loss, though, such a nasty, common name. And now, _Mrs. Dawson_, be so kind and leave."

"Son…"

"I'm no son of yours, woman!" the young magician snapped. "You lost the right to call me that when you gave me away!"

"At least give me a chance to explain…"

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say," Nathaniel hissed. "You weren't interested in me either. You left me and you never came looking for me again…"

"We couldn't… we had to sign those papers…" Esther was wringing her hands, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "You have no idea what we were feeling when we did it, but… we had to…"

Nathaniel turned his back on her, staring out the window, but not seeing the apple trees beyond. Anger had clouded his mind so much that he couldn't see anything but the hazy images of his childhood… the images that had popped up in his nightmares over the years, never giving him peace. He didn't even notice the moth that was hiding in a crack of the window-frame.

"Nathaniel… please, just listen to her," Kitty said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And if you still want her to leave after that, she will go." She gave Esther a meaningful look. Esther nodded.

"All right," the young man said and turned around, drawing himself up to look as aloof as possible. "I'm all ears. Speak away, woman."

Esther took a deep breath. "You were two when I gave birth to your sister, Julie. You surely don't remember her, but… you loved looking at her so much, Nathaniel. You used to call her 'butiful baby'. You couldn't talk properly yet…" A small, sad smile appeared on her face. "Julie was very sick. She wasn't even two when it turned out that she had serious problems with her heart. She needed surgery, but… it was so expensive. We couldn't afford it, not on your father's wages… He was just an assistant in a grocery store, after all. Then… I read that advertisement in the newspaper, and… Oh, Nathaniel, I didn't want to give up on you… but your father, he said you'd have a wonderful life as a magician. He said you'd have a chance to be rich and famous, that you'd never be in need… and your sister would get a chance to live. It was the hardest decision of my life…"

"So, I have a sister?" Nathaniel asked. In some of his nightmares he remembered hearing a little child's cry, but he'd never known who had been crying… probably his sister.

The woman shook her head, stifling a sob. "The… the operation was done… but she died. And we could no longer get you back… I told… I told your father it was God's punishment for having sold you… I have never… never forgiven myself for that… but I kept hoping… hoping that your life was good. That you were happy. Were you, Nathaniel?"

Her eyes met her son's, and he didn't look away this time. "Yes. And no. I had everything… and nothing. I had a mother-substitute, but not a father. Is… is my father alive?"

Esther shook her head. "He died… shortly after Julie. His employer had somehow made one of his customers… a magician, mad at him… and one day, the magician sent demons that destroyed the shop. Your father died there. I have no family left, Nathaniel. No one… but you. You have no idea what I felt when I saw you in the village… you were… _are_ a dream come true… A prayer that has been listened to… I don't expect you to forgive me… I just want you to know that I love you. If you want me to leave now, I will."

Nathaniel stared at her for a few seconds, then nodded.

The woman gave Kitty a grateful smile and exited.

Kitty watched as her husband dropped himself on a chair, burying his face in his hands. It was not the time to bother him, he had too much to think over.

She slipped out the door and ran after Mrs Dawson.

"Esther, wait!"

The older woman turned around. "Yes?"

Kitty caught up with her by the garden fence. "Nathaniel will soften. Just give him time. He looks cold and hard on the outside, but… he's not an evil person. The world of the magicians has infected him, yes, but there's still good in him. Be patient, and he'll forgive you."

"You're very kind, dear," Esther said, smiling through her tears. "I can see you love my son very much."

"I do. Though most of he time he doesn't deserve it." Kitty grinned. "He can be the greatest git, but sometimes he's the sweetest person."

"Takes after his father, then." Esther chuckled. "He looks like my late Jonathan too. That's how I recognised him in the village. He's the spitting image of his father at twenty… even his eyes are the same sapphire blue. The only thing he inherited from me are his lips."

"Now that I look at you, you're right. You have the same smile," Kitty observed. "Where can we find you in the village?"

"Do you think…?" Esther looked back at the house.

"Yes, I'm sure Nathaniel will want to talk to you later." Kitty nodded.

"I live in the orphanage. I'm one of the matrons. The orphanage is the grey house with the green fence. Nathaniel knows which one, I've already shown him when he asked for instructions to find the doctor's house. Really… why did he need the doctor?"

"He didn't," Kitty replied. "I did. I was feeling sick."

"I hope it's nothing serious…"

Kitty shook her head, smiling. "You're going to be a grandma, Esther."

o o o O O O o o o

As Kitty entered the house, Nathaniel looked up, a haunted but deliberate look in his eyes. "Nothing's lost yet," he said, rising to his feet. "I can throw a memory charm on her and we can leave this village and find another one. But we have to act quick."

"Nathaniel!" Kitty looked scandalised. "She's your… mother! You should give her a chance at least…"

"You're too warm-hearted, Kitty," he replied darkly. "You always think everyone deserves a second chance. Well, I don't. I don't want more complications in my life."

"Oh yes, _family_ has always meant complications for you, hasn't it?" She stared into his eyes, her glance piercing. "First you didn't want a wife. Then you didn't want a child. Now you don't want a mother. But heck, it was all given to you, and you fail to notice that all are gifts from God? Gifts that you don't even deserve?"

Taken aback by her outburst, he stared at her for a few seconds, not sure what to reply. Then he spoke up: "Don't start yelling again. The doctor said you needed rest."

"I'm feeling perfectly well, thank you," she said icily. "It's you who needs to _heal_, John."

For the second time that day she'd called him John. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, let alone himself, but it hurt him. He looked away, sinking back onto the chair.

With a sigh, she flopped down on another chair next to him and took his hand. "I talked to Esther. She's the matron of the local orphanage. Don't you think that this is… some kind of a miracle? You're getting your mother back, and who else could take better care of our child if not her grandma? It can't be a coincidence, it's a work of Fate."

Nathaniel made a sarcastic grimace. "Do you believe in Fate? I don't. My Fate is determined by me and no one else." He slipped his hand out of hers. "But if it makes you happy, I won't go after her to memory-charm her. You should go back to bed, don't tire yourself."

"I'm not tired." She shook her head. "Why don't we take a walk around the house? I saw a creek nearby, I'd love to see it close-up. We don't need to talk if you don't want to. Just a peaceful walk, nothing else."

"All right. We might as well taste those apples. They look really delicious."

o o o O O O o o o

The Tramp got the idea of summoning me that afternoon. As it was a Saturday, I appeared in a pentacle in her pretty room (which was dominated by the colours white, pink, magenta and rose. Ewww… just to imagine the kid sleeping with her on pink pillows…). I appeared in the form of a Yeti. This made her drop the glass of orange juice she was holding. Tell you what, orange flecks on her snow white carpet didn't look good. I doubted that any kind of washing powder (or any kind of magic) would ever remove them. This made me very satisfied indeed.

Seeing her ruined carpet, her hands balled into fists, but I saw the effort she was making to keep herself from bursting. "Report," she hissed.

"Well, John took Kitty to this little village called Fenny Bridges. The house is tiny but clean and there are lots of apple trees around. Yum-yum, apples, they surely taste good... not that I've ever have tasted any; we, creatures of the Other Place never eat human food because it clogs up our essence... Well, never mind. At least Kitty won't suffer from vitamin C deficiency during her pregnancy, which is a good thing, isn't it? She needs lots of vitamins these days, that's what the doctor said after he examined her…"

"What doctor?" My mistress looked curious.

"The village doctor, called Smith or something. He examined Kitty after she fainted. You know, the kid and her were having a row…"

"Indeed?" A nasty smile appeared on the Tramp's face. For a second I got the impression that she was happy about Nat and Kitty's row _because_ she still hoped that she'd somehow manage to get him back. True that she'd shouted at Nat in Parliament (as half Great Britain had heard) that in case Kitty left him, he shouldn't even think of going back to her, but… Women like this change their opinion too quick and too often. Was it possible she was getting soft about the kid? Was her anger diminishing? I wouldn't have been surprised if it had been so. Women like this can't go long without sex, and from what I've heard, she'd been very satisfied with the kid's talents in bed. From what I've _seen_ in various parts of Mandrake estate, I wasn't surprised that she'd been satisfied with him. Why, the kid knew things that not even Suleiman the Magnificent knew, and that chap had had a harem of over a thousand. (I had been unfortunate enough to have to pose as a eunuch in his harem, on the orders of one of his enemies. This was the best disguise to have in Suleiman's court. No, I wasn't a _real _eunuch! Yuck.)

So, back to the Tramp. She was smiling hopefully at me. She struck me as someone who'd love to get Nat back for a few shags, but would still stab him in the back. What a viper. "Do tell me about that row," she said in a chit-chatty voice.

"Well, Kitty was accusing the kid about not wanting their child and only caring about his career, then… she just fainted. The kid was desperate, he thought she'd lost the baby and ran for the doc. But it turned out that the baby's healthy and so is Kitty."

"Anything else?"

"Not really… Oh, but yes! I saw the kid crying. Probably for the first time in my life. He was thoroughly embarrassed about it…" I gave her a toothy grin. I wish I could have seen my face at that moment, as I had never seen a Yeti grin before.

"Anything else?"

"Not necessarily," I replied calmly. I decided that I had told her just enough to ruin Nat's life, and she hadn't even set me free in exchange, so I was mad at her. Therefore, I wasn't really motivated to tell her more. She didn't need to know about Nat's mother, did she? As long as she didn't ask outright whether John's mother had popped up all of a sudden, I wouldn't tell her.

She kept eyeing me for a few seconds, as if unsure whether to believe me, then nodded. "Go back and keep your eyes open. Once John comes back to London, come back with him. I don't expect you to follow him to Parliamentary sessions, but I want you to come to Whitehall for the Halloween ball, just make sure no one sees you. Eavesdrop on any conversation he has with any minister there. Oh, and next time I summon you, choose a less scary form."

"Oh, so you _were_ scared, Mistress," I said delightfully. "I don't really see why… a Yeti is cute and fluffy… most masters would want to cuddle me instead of spilling their orange juice…"

"I said _go now_!" She stamped her foot.

"Okay, okay, I was just trying to be friendly…" I sighed and vanished from the pentacle.

o o o O O O o o o

"Nathaniel… are you awake?"

"No."

Kitty put an arm around him, nestling her face into his neck. "I expected you wouldn't be able to fall asleep… in your place I wouldn't, either."

"I just can't fall asleep because of the crickets," he grunted, still facing away from her. The moon shone into the tiny room, painting whitish streaks on the walls and the bedcovers.

"The crickets?"

"They're making a racket," Nathaniel said in a tired voice.

Kitty chuckled. "You have no trouble sleeping in the London traffic noise, you don't even get awoken by the sirens of ambulance or Police cars, but you can't sleep because of a bunch of crickets?"

"Yeah. I'm not used to them. There are no crickets in London."

She rose just enough to kiss him on the cheek. "You don't need to make up stories, Nathaniel. I know what's bothering you."

"Then why are you asking?" he sighed.

"I just wanted to hear it from you. We've got to talk about this," Kitty said determinedly.

"It must be around three in the morning. Do you think this is the right time to talk about it… or about anything?"

"If we're both wide awake without a chance of falling asleep any time soon, then why not? Nathaniel… tell me what you think about her."

"I don't know what to think about her," he said heavily. "I never thought I'd ever see any member of my family again. I'm confused, and… so mad."

"Mad? At her?"

He rolled onto his back, staring up at her face that was partly illuminated by the moon. "At her. At my father. At the world of the magicians. At myself. I'm mad at everyone and everything, Kitty."

"Do you think… you could forgive her? She didn't do it out of evilness, after all. She didn't do it because she wanted to get rid of you. And she suffered just as much as you did, if not more. You forgot about her, but she never forgot about you. She loves you, Nathaniel. I saw it."

"It's a female thing, isn't it?" He made a grimace. "You women see and understand things that we men don't."

Kitty reached out to sweep a stray black lock out of his face. "She's a mother, Nathaniel. And I'm going to be one soon. I haven't yet seen our child, haven't held her, haven't even felt her move, and yet… I already love her so much that I couldn't express it with words. The mere idea of losing her stabs a dagger into my heart. Your mother… she must have felt the same way… and I don't even want to imagine what she felt when she lost both you and your sister. If her giving up on you was a sin, then she has already been punished for it. Don't punish her even more with turning away from her. She deserves a second chance. Everyone does."

"I'm not ready for this yet," he muttered. "Perhaps some day… but not yet."

"I'm sure she will understand and wait for you. Try to sleep now or you'll fall asleep in Parliament tomorrow."

"Sometimes I almost fall asleep there even without sleep-deprivation," he chuckled. "If Ffoukes didn't poke me once in a while, I'd start snoring during one of Weatherby's speeches… Once Carl Mortensen indeed fell asleep. Old Weatherby kept giving him nasty glances for weeks afterwards."

"Isn't that the old chap who's recently got a second heart attack?"

"Mmm… yeah."

"You always wear such a funny expression when Weatherby's mentioned," Kitty pointed out. "Why?"

"Don't count your chickens until they're hatched…" he replied vaguely.

"Nathaniel…"

"Okay, okay, but don't tell anyone. This is nothing more than just guessing, but… Ffoukes said he'd bet anything that I'd get Weatherby's place if he passed away…"

Kitty's eyes widened. "But… isn't Weatherby the Deputy Prime Minister?"

"He is." The young magician couldn't hide his hopeful smile.

"I don't like this."

"Why not?"

"Power," Kitty whispered. "You've already got too much of it for someone so young… I don't want to lose you to politics, Nathaniel."

"You won't." He reached out and caressed her face. "Let's not talk about it, shall we? Weatherby is alive and kicking. I heard he was diligently organising the Halloween ball with Jane… at the moment he doesn't strike me as someone who's going to kick the bucket."

"Halloween ball?" Kitty arched an eyebrow at him. "You haven't mentioned that yet."

"I forgot." He made a face. "It's next Friday. A masquerade. How I hate those… and I won't even have you there with me to take my mind off having to wear an idiotic costume."

"And what are you planning to go as?"

"Dunno. A vampire?"

"Make sure you have a photo taken of you." Kitty kissed him on the tip of his nose. "I'd love to see a dashing vampire."

"Hmm… so you find me dashing, Mrs Mandrake?"

"Very." She kissed him on the lips.

"If you continue like this, we won't get much sleep and I will surely fall asleep in Parliament," he murmured as she began nibbling on his right earlobe. "Not that I'm complaining…"

o o o O O O o o o

That night they were very loud again. Apparently they wanted to make up for weeks of not having done it. From my perch on the window frame (after I returned from the Tramp's home, I again turned into a moth) I watched Enid's suffering face. Well, as much as a parrot's 'face' could be called a face. You know what I mean.

While Ugli had had a chance in the huge Mandrake house to flee somewhere where he couldn't hear Nat and Kitty going at it, Enid couldn't flee anywhere here, this house was so tiny. And, as it was freezing outside, I doubted she preferred a walk or fly in any form. Well, perhaps as a polar bear, but then again, if anyone from the village spotted a polar bear roaming around, they would have been scared to death and Nat's being a magician would have been revealed in no time. So, all Enid could do was stay in the house and turn back into a human, stuffing plugs into her ears. Not that earplugs could close out all that racket… I was more than satisfied to see that I wasn't the only one who had to suffer from Nathaniel's enormous libido. Honestly, it _was_ bigger than Suleiman the Magnificent's. And Nat didn't even have a thousand wives, only one.

It was near sunrise when the noises finally subsided. By that time Enid looked a little disturbed. If I hadn't had to stay hidden, I would have friendlily patted her on the back, telling her that she'd better get used to this.

In the morning the lovebirds slept in, it was almost midday when they woke up. Lots of kisses, cuddling and feeding each other with their own forks followed. I saw the horror on Enid's face when Nat and Kitty began eating two ends of one spaghetti and ended up in a kiss in the middle. Yeah, it was sickening. I had liked the cold Nat who'd been avoiding Kitty more.

Once Kitty tried to turn their conversation to Nat's mum, he told her politely but determinedly that he didn't want to talk about it. I saw the disappointment on her face but the kid had either not noticed it or deliberately pretended not to have noticed it. And Kitty, in order to keep their fragile peace, didn't want to push him.

Early in the afternoon Nat kissed his wife good-bye and sat into his Ford to drive back to London. I took a place under the back seat as a fly, thankful for not having to witness any naughty things for at least a week.

o o o O O O o o o

Friday evening came quicker than I had expected, but for the kid the five days he had had to spend away from Fenny Bridges seemed to be an endless suffering. And, as I suspected, not only because he was a sex-maniac, but because of his mother as well. He tried to hide the fact that he actually cared about her, but I saw through his pretence. He talked to Kitty every evening over the phone, and not once did he ask about his mum, but I saw that he needed huge self-control not to mention her. It was only his damn pride that held him back.

On Friday evening I turned from my spider form into a fly once again (mind you, I was getting really fed up with having to live in various insect forms for months, but those were the only ones small and inconspicuous enough) and took a place under the back seat of Nat's limo. The kid had summoned another foliot for the evening to be able to show off a demon hovering over his shoulder (he didn't want to take Ugli, as someone needed to keep an eye on his house. Tell you what, Ugli was completely useless: I could prance in and out of Mandrake estate without him ever noticing. Now imagine me rolling my eyes.)

We got to the Palace of Westminster in ten minutes. The building, of course, was already surrounded by hundreds of limousines. However, the people who got out of them didn't look nearly as dignified as their cars. Why, some of them were dressed up as dinosaurs, one was sporting a bunny costume (I suspected he had mistaken Halloween for Easter), another wore Jedi robes. (You might wonder how I knew about the Jedi at all. No, I hadn't seen Star Wars, but another demon in the Other Place had raved endlessly about his latest master, some George Lucas…)

Nathaniel, wearing a dark cloak with blood red bow tie and two sharp incisors, marched into the building with the pathetic little foliot over his shoulder. I sometimes wondered why a fourth-level magician like him didn't summon something better. Finally I put it down to his laziness and to the fact that he knew that having to deal with more sensible creatures (me, for example) means more trouble as well.

The ball itself was the usual pompous but useless get-together with lots of champagne, idiotic speeches and a horde of demons who tried to look even more important than their masters. I, however, had to avoid attention, therefore turned into a gnat. That was smaller than a fly. I chose to be a male gnat, just because I despised the females of this species for their blood-thirst. Why, don't _you_ find drinking someone's blood disgusting? I certainly do. However, I wasn't sure about the kid. He'd chosen a vampire costume, after all…

I kept circling around Nat, as unnoticeably as possible (even this way one of the older ministers whom Nat chit-chatted with - and who was dressed up as a giraffe - tried to swat me. But missed. Hah). Soon I noticed my current mistress in the crowd – she wore a butterfly costume. A lurid pink one at that. Eh. That woman certainly didn't have any taste. I sometimes wondered what the kid had ever liked about her.

Hour passed after hour, and it was almost midnight when the kid was finally left alone by his old and boring chat partners. Whether it had been intentional or not (I suspected it _was_), my mistress had somehow ended up next to him, coquettishly sipping a glass of champagne.

"Oh, good evening, John," she said, pretending to be surprised to see him. "I hadn't even noticed you." What a liar.

"I hadn't noticed you either," the kid replied. "Which is most remarkable, given that you're wearing the most vivid colour around. It hurts my eyes."

I felt like patting the kid on the back. He'd put my thoughts into words.

"You're as charming as ever, John," the Tramp purred, looking around. "I see your little wife isn't around… I heard rumours about her lung problems, but didn't know whether they were true or not…"

Nat made a face. "I'm afraid they are. Kitty's going to spend a few months at the countryside."

"What a pity," my mistress sighed theatrically. "Poor John, you must be feeling really… _lonely_ without her."

I told you. This tramp would love to sleep with him and still continue planning her revenge on him. Or just sleep with him. Without revenge. Or whatever. You may never know with women like this.

"I'm doing all right, thank you," Nat replied, and I saw he was beginning to feel uneasy. Mind you, I too would have felt uneasy if a woman had been eyeing me in such a predatory way, ready to jump on me and ravish me on the spot…

"Are you sure? You look so… pale…" Pretending that she was just making way for a giggling crocodile-monkey couple, my mistress stepped closer to the kid, rubbing her thigh to his. Yes, it did seem very accidental, but the kid knew it wasn't. I knew it too. I'm a smart djinni, you know.

The gentle rubbing motion seemed to have its effect on the Nat, as his pallor got replaced by a rosy tinge. "I'd appreciate it if you left me some space to breathe, Jane," he hissed through gritted teeth.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently, playing with one of the straps of her butterfly dress. It was very suggestive. She ran her fingers along her collarbone, while sipping her champagne. This would have been enough to turn on any male in the hall, but it was addressed to Nathaniel only.

"Stop this, Jane," he grunted.

"What?" She fluttered her eyelashes and licked a drop of champagne that was just about to run down her lips. I glanced at the kid to see his face red with… anger or desire? I couldn't tell.

"Trying to seduce me!" Nat snapped. The song that the orchestra had been playing just ended, but the kid didn't seem to notice. "I'm no longer your puppet to play with, Jane! I won't be a second Duvall or Fry!"

"What do you mean by that?" my mistress hissed. Neither noticed that the whole hall was looking at them by now.

"Oh, don't pretend you forgot what you _personally_ told me about having been _more_ to Duvall than just his apprentice! And after his imprisonment, you just had to hop into Marmeduke Fry's bed to avoid losing your status as a magician! After _he_ died, I was your next victim, and after I married Kitty, you got scared! Scared that you'd be left without an influential magician to support your career in exchange for your sexual services! Why don't you go and find another minister to shag and leave me the hell alone?"

_Splash._

My mistress had tossed the leftovers of her champagne into Nat's face and marched out of Westminster Hall. The crowd opened slightly to give her way.

A middle-aged magician sidled to Nat who was wiping his face with a silk handkerchief. "Why do you two always insist on making scenes in front of everyone?" he said with a half-smile.

The kid shrugged. "She was provoking me, Ffoukes. Besides, it doesn't hurt that the rest of the magicians find out how Jane got to be an MP at all. She practically shagged her way into Parliament." He pocketed his handkerchief. "Besides, she doesn't even have style. In her place, Kitty would have punched me so hard I would have lost a few front teeth. Spilling champagne on me… well, that's all you can expect from Jane Farrar."

To tell you the truth, I doubted that. Even if she had had half a mind to _not_ ruin Nat's life completely (e.g. just take his kid away, without any more harm to him), now I was a hundred percent sure that Jane Farrar's intentions of destroying Nathaniel were stronger than ever before. Yes, I felt sorry for him. Again. Not that I was going soft or anything… it's just my big heart. I think I've mentioned that before. But _repetitio est mater studiorum_. Yes, I'm not only warm-hearted and brave but cultured as well. Keep that in mind.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: opinions?**


	16. To Be Or Not To Be, That Is The Question

**A/N: evil chapter ahead, beware :)**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _Pyshcodelic-Pixie, Fredryck, LandUnderWave, Rebel Rose, RoseFae, Saldaen farmgirl, fikle, AmethystPhoenix1, pi-fan92, Mistri Tonks' Admirer, Queen Dragon, Mewhoelse, annatari the writer, Jardin, HPLB, Apo, Aiko Moonchild, xav_**

**Chapter 16**

**To Be Or Not To Be, That Is The Question**

We got back to the Mandrake estate around three in the morning. I couldn't enter the house as long as Ugli didn't go for his daily shopping spree, and I knew I'd have to wait hours before that happened. So, I stayed on the street, turned into a crow (it felt downright refreshing to be something else for a change, not an insect) and took a place on a nearby tree.

I had a perfect view of Nat's window from there. I couldn't see properly into the house from this distance, but I saw well enough that a tiny dark figure in his room (presumably Nat himself) had switched on the lights and was trying to get rid of his ridiculous vampire costume. At least the moves the dark figure was making suggested that he was undressing. Then, his following moves suggested that he was dressing. No, very likely not for the night, as he usually slept in the nude or just wearing a pair of boxers. (Mind you, he _had_ worn pyjamas as a child. I don't know where and when he'd got in the habit of sleeping starkers, but I strongly disapproved. You can catch a cold or get kidney problems if you don't put something around your midsection. Not that I'm worried about the kid contracting an illness, I'm just observing things and giving you health tips. You'd better be grateful for it.) I suspected that he was changing into his 'commoner costume'. And that suggested he wasn't about to sleep but intended to leave London as soon as possible.

Since he hadn't drunk any alcohol at the ball, he could drive without any risk. Well, the only risk was that he'd fall asleep behind the steering wheel as he hadn't slept a wink that night. He had seemed a bit disturbed by Jane's acting and I could perfectly understand his desire to flee from London, into Kitty's arms. At least, that was what I thought he was doing, but I didn't have a chance to get proof of his intentions because at three thirteen, my mistress summoned me.

I materialised in the pentacle, in Ptolemy's form. Just because I was too tired that night to assume any forms that were more difficult to create. "Isn't it a bit too late… or early to summon someone?" I asked, yawning. "Every decent person should be asleep at this time. Not that I'm insinuating that you're _not_ decent, don't get me wrong…"

My mistress glowered at me and I noticed that her pink-lilac mascara had been smeared – she must have been crying. Well, after what Nat had shouted at her in front of all those important people… I wasn't surprised. She had shed her butterfly wings, and glancing around in her room I saw them on her orange-flecked white carpet, looking rather crumpled. As though she'd practically torn them off and trampled upon them a bit. A few pink pillows were also scattered on the carpet, and one of her magenta curtains had somehow ended up on her armchair, looking just as rumpled as her wings. Too bad she hadn't summoned me a bit earlier, I would have loved to see a hysterical Jane Farrar ruining her own possessions.

"Report," she hissed. "I expect you were the gnat that kept circling around John. Did you hear anything interesting? Did he talk about me after I left?"

I shrugged. "He just said you didn't have style – tossing your champagne into his face… he said he preferred Kitty's style. The punching in the face method, you know. Johnnie boy loves belligerent women. You aren't belligerent enough for him."

The Tramp's eyes narrowed. "I will be. I _will_ be."

"Indeed? Indeed? And how? And how?" I asked, just to play along. Besides, pretending to be an echo usually drove my masters crazy. I decided it was time to try whether it drove the Tramp crazy as well.

"Shut up!" She stamped her foot. "And now, stay put." She closed her eyes, murmuring an incantation. In the next instant a pinkish nexus appeared around the pentacle, reaching up to the ceiling. I felt like I was shut into a transparent column. It wasn't a happy thought.

"I'm not even budging," I grunted. "Say, what's all this madness for? Did I do something wrong?"

"I'm not sure you did." My mistress shrugged. "But last time I summoned you, I had a feeling you were lying to me. Just a fleeting thought, you know… but I wanted to make sure that my demon wasn't having me on. This nexus forces you to tell the truth. About anything. Everything." She allowed herself a nasty smirk. I didn't like her smirk in the least. It made a shiver run down my spine. "I remembered having read about this incantation in my apprentice years-"

"When you were shagging that Duvall guy?" I interjected.

If looks could kill, I would have dropped dead on the spot. "Okay, okay, I was just being polite, pretending to be interested in your apprentice years…" I said, rolling my eyes.

"So, I remembered having read about it, but I needed a few days to look it up. It was in a book called _Very Wicked Curses for Every Occasion_. This nexus is the best interrogator ever invented. You don't need Inverted Skins, Systematic Vices or Essence Racks to torture a demon if you can create this nexus… if you were indeed lying to me, you will be shortly screaming the truth about everything I ask."

Ouch. That didn't sound very nice. To tell you the truth, I got scared. My very essence was trembling, but I tried not to show it, so I turned into a gargoyle. That form seemed strong and hard enough to hide my feeling of insecurity.

"Okay," I said, trying to sound carefree. "You want the truth, honey? All right, I admit I've never had sex before. Not even with Queezle, although I felt really attracted to her. I've always been rather embarrassed about still being a virgin, but…"

"Oh, shut up, demon!" My mistress waved indignantly. "I'm not interested in your sexual life or lack thereof." She knitted her eyebrows. "_Can_ demons have sex at all?"

"Actually, we can," I replied. And I wasn't even lying. We can get intimate with each other, if we assume the form of a human or an animal. However, in our original forms we can't because besides all those suction cups and tentacles, we don't have genitalia. Which makes it rather difficult to determine a magical entity's gender. We usually develop a male or female personality based on our name. Bartimaeus sounds male enough, so I always considered myself a male. But once I knew a Ghul named Robin. Poor Robin had quite a bit of an identity crisis and he (or she) died without having decided whether he (or she) was a boy or a girl. I felt with him (her). Now you might be wondering how little demons are born if we don't have genitalia. Well… there is a huge and influential entity in the Other Place called The Stork. He is responsible for everything.

But back to the Tramp. (Sorry, got carried away. Next time remind me not to give you lengthy biology lessons).

"You know what?" my mistress said. "I don't care if you can or can't. I want to know whether you have told me the truth about John."

"In what respect?" I asked. "If you want to hear the truth again, then yes, John is in love with Kitty and vice versa. They're going to have a baby in secret in a village named Fenny Bridges. He wants to put the baby into the local orphanage and claim it as his apprentice once the child turns five and John turns twenty-five. Oh, and John _really_ thinks you're not half as good in bed as Kitty is. He mentioned this to her at least four ti-"

"Silence!" My mistress snapped. My, my, someone was really irritable tonight… "Tell me, last time, when I asked whether you knew something else about John and you said 'no', did you tell the truth?"

I glanced at the vibrating pink nexus around me. It didn't look very encouraging, but oh well… I had to try to fib. And if I couldn't, then… I'd think of something.

"Yeah," I said lazily. Barely had the short word left my mouth when a pink lightning from the nexus ran through me. My gargoyle form was made of stone, but the lightning went through it as easily as though it were melt butter. Someone let out a cry. I looked around to see who it was, then realised it had been me. Involuntarily, I had screamed. The pain had lasted for a second only, but it had been so intense that I thought that if the Systematic Vice were a person, he'd be green with envy at the moment.

"That hurt, didn't it?" My mistress asked with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Well, it wasn't exactly pleasant," I replied, trying to sound much less shocked than I was. Because I _was_ feeling shocked. I had been punished several times with several methods in my five thousand years of life, but not once had I experienced pain of this magnitude. Whoever had invented this ugly pink nexus, must have been a sadist.

"You can get a few more shots if you refuse to tell me the truth," the Tramp said nonchalantly. "So, I'm asking again, Bartimaeus, do you know of anything else important in connection with John Mandrake? Anything that would help me take revenge on him?"

"Isn't his innocent little baby enough for you?" I grunted.

"It's me who's asking questions here!" My mistress stamped her foot. I wondered how her high heels hadn't broken yet, after all this foot-stamping… "Yes… or no?"

I crossed my arms and looked away. I didn't need to answer her at all. After all, I was safe within this nexus, she very likely couldn't kill me with the Shrivelling Fire or use the Systematic Vice or the Essence Rack on me as long as I was 'protected' by this pink abomination; and the pink abomination wouldn't hit me as long as I didn't lie. It was just like a polygraph, combined with a torture device. I had all the time in the world, I could stand there for a few dozen years (even though it would have given me some minor pain that I would have been able to lessen by changing forms) and for all I cared, my stupid mistress could turn grey and wrinkly waiting for my reply.

It soon turned out that I had miscalculated things a bit. Well, a lot. Apparently the nexus hadn't only been a lie detector that only activated once I fibbed, but my mistress could control its functions as she pleased.

She murmured a short incantation, and three pink lightning bolts tore at my body at once. And not only for a second, but… I didn't even know how long. Too long, that's for sure. Some time later I realised I was lying on the floor within the pentacle, the nexus still vividly vibrating around me. My gargoyle-body was steaming at certain places.

"That was horrible, wasn't it?" a shrill voice asked.

I lifted my head a bit – though it felt extremely heavy all of a sudden – and glanced at my mistress.

"Will you talk now, Barty dear?"

"It's Bartimaeus, you tramp," I hissed from the floor. I shouldn't have. The next instant another pair of lightning bolts ran through me. I won't describe my reaction to them, for two reasons – one: detailed description of torture would turn my story M-rated and most of you wouldn't be able to read it; two: it's beneath my dignity to admit that I was screaming like an imp being ripped apart by an Uttuku, or a Sprite being tramped upon by a Horla, or… Well, you get the idea.

After a while, I opened my eyes and saw Jane Farrar staring down at me with a grim expression. "Just for your information, Barty," she said coldly, "one or two more hits like that will kill you. It's time to decide whether you want to be sentimentally loyal to John – though I really don't understand why you would – or you talk and I promise your torture will end. Choose Bartimaeus: life or death? Me or John?"

Lying there, my mind was reeling. Did Nathaniel deserve that I die for him? No, he definitely didn't. And after all, what could it hurt if I told the Tramp that Nat's mum was alive?

"All right," I sighed, sitting up. "The kid met his mother in Fenny Bridges. She's a rather nice woman, but the kid is a jerk and doesn't want to forgive her for having given him away all those years ago. Kitty sympathises with her mother-in-law and hopes that she'd take good care of their child until it turns five. So there, you've got the information you wanted. Tramp."

Miss Farrar's eyes didn't even flash at the word 'tramp' this time, but they had flashed when I first uttered the word 'mother'. "This is rather interesting news, Bartimaeus," she said thoughtfully. "So, you've witnessed at least one conversation between mother and son…"

I nodded.

A greedy expression appeared on my mistress's face. "Then you've surely heard what his mum called him… you've surely heard _his birth name_…"

I flinched. I should have thought of that. But I hadn't. Dang it. Apparently my mind hadn't been working quick enough, but after having gone through such torture, it wasn't surprising.

"So?" The Tramp asked demandingly.

"So what?" I pretended to be politely confused but hadn't really managed. I was simply too tired and battered to act natural. Don't frown like that! Why, had you, in my place, been fresh and quick-minded?

"I want a name!" she hissed.

"Zacharias," I said the first name that came to my mind.

The nexus hit me, but this time it wasn't controlled by my mistress, only its basic function had been activated. The hit had been short and mild compared to the latest ones. I was still alive.

My mistress glowered down on me.

"Hey…" I muttered, barely feeling strong enough to talk, "you wanted a name. I told you a name… You didn't specify what kind of a name you wanted…"

"I want John's birth name!" The Tramp snapped. She looked really agitated for some reason. "And you'd better tell me his _real_ birth name, or I'll send five bolts at you at once and that will kill you, demon!"

"You wouldn't kill me," I answered. "You still want me to deliver you the baby's birth name."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Don't think I couldn't summon another demon and send it to Fenny Bridges once you're dead!"

I felt like rolling my eyes. Such an old threat, reminding the poor djinni that he's replaceable… "You know that if I told you his birth name and he summoned me later, I could tell him that you forced me to tell you everything? Aren't you afraid of him? He's a much more talented magician than you are, sweetie."

A cruel smile appeared on the Tramp's face. "I don't care if he finds out later. It will be too late for him, either way. So, have you made up your mind, demon?"

"How can I be sure that you won't kill me as soon as I tell you his birth name?"

Her smile grew even wider. "I wouldn't want to rid poor John of the chance of finding out that his one-time demon had betrayed him. Actually, I hope he will summon you some day, when I already know his name. I'd love to see him humiliated and betrayed by everyone…"

"You're mad, woman," I murmured.

"_You_ are mad if you're trying to defend him," she said sharply. "Why are you doing it, Bartimaeus? What has he done for you? He's just like any of us, just as evil and greedy! He isn't any different!"

No matter how hard it was, I had to admit that she was right. Once I had known a stuck-up, proud, but overall good-hearted and courageous little boy. That little boy had turned into an arrogant, selfish git who'd sell his own mother for some more power (especially after his own mother had sold him). All in all, the kid was a nasty, cold-hearted idiot who didn't deserve my sympathy and definitely didn't deserve my self-sacrifice. The question ran through my mind: _to be or not to be_? And I decided _to be_.

I gave the Tramp a patronising stare. "It's Nathaniel. Happy now?"

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel arrived at Fenny Bridges shortly past seven in the morning. There was at least one good thing about driving at night: there wasn't any traffic.

He got out of the Ford Fiesta and, despite his thick pullover, he shuddered in the freezing morning air. The fallen leaves under his feet glistened with the layer of frost covering them. Nathaniel had never liked the second half of autumn, it was gloomy and depressing and cold.

He walked to the house, fished his own set of keys out of his jeans pocket and opened the door. It was fairly dark in the house, even darker than outside, as the sun had not yet risen. Only a thin whitish line on the horizon suggested that sunrise was near.

Nathaniel tiptoed to the door of Kitty's room and pressed his ear against it. A soft sound that resembled her gentle almost-snores, was coming from inside. So, she was still asleep…

The young magician decided not to wake her and took a place on the sofa with the intention of waiting for her to wake up. However, his drowsiness was stronger than his determination to stay awake, and within a minute he fell asleep, his head lolling over his chest.

He awoke an hour later. The sun had already risen and was sending its cheerful, whitish-yellow light into the room. The sunrays glistened on a smooth surface on the table. For a second Nathaniel didn't know what was mirroring the sunrays. He hadn't even noticed that object before he'd fallen asleep. He reached out and picked it up. It was an old, dog-eared photo showing a wide-eyed little boy around three years old, sitting in a huge armchair, holding a bawling baby in his arms. Apparently the little boy didn't know what to do with the baby and looked downright scared by the task of having to hold it.

Nathaniel's heart sank. His own blue eyes were looking back at him from the picture – there was just one difference: the child in the photo looked innocent, unspoilt, not yet corrupted by power. For a moment Nathaniel wished he could go back in time and undo things that led him here, that made him be like this – the power-hungry, selfish politician that he was.

"You were very cute as a child," a voice spoke up behind him. He looked up to see Kitty smiling down at him with a sleepy face. He hadn't even noticed her enter.

"She was here, wasn't she?" Nathaniel asked.

"Yes, your mother has visited me," Kitty replied, sitting down next to him. "She brought a stack of photos about you. You were a beautiful little boy, Nathaniel."

He made a sour face. "I hope she wasn't showing you naked baby photos."

Kitty laughed. "Just one. That was simply lovely. You were playing with a dummy, laughing… Looking at all those photos made me feel very motherly all of a sudden…" She gently rubbed her belly through her dressing gown.

He bit into his lower lip. "I don't approve of your fraternizing with her, Kitty."

"Fraternizing?" she gasped. "She's family!"

"_You_ are my family," he said darkly. "You and the baby. _She_ isn't."

"Don't be this cold-hearted," she whispered. "She's a nice person. The more I talked to her, the more I saw it."

Nathaniel's eyes flashed. "Just how many times have you talked to her?"

"Almost every day."

"So!" He jumped up from the sofa.

"So what?" She crossed her arms.

"I seriously hope you didn't tell her things you shouldn't have."

Kitty's eyes narrowed. "If you're referring to your name and rank in the magician society, then no, I haven't told her. She has no idea you're a damn minister with a freaking big house and Persian carpets."

"How can you be sure she doesn't know?" Nathaniel asked, his arms akimbo. "What if she only wants to be friendly with us because she _knows_ about my fortune?"

"You're really an arsehole." Kitty stood up, sticking her hands into her nightgown pockets. "Esther hasn't watched TV since she moved into this village, because the orphanage is so poor they can't even afford a TV set. She doesn't read the newspapers either because she thinks the magicians fill it with lies, and let's face it: it's true. Your mum has been practically cut from the rest of the world for fifteen years and doesn't even know what Deveraux looks like, let alone a minor minister like yourself!"

"Minor?" Nathaniel blanched.

"Why, could they have forced a more important minister to marry against his own will?" Kitty asked coldly.

"No. But just because the 'more important' ministers were all married already," he replied angrily. "But you're right, I _could_ do better than this. I don't intend to remain Minister of Internal Affairs for the rest of my life."

"What, are you going to kill Weatherby?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

This had its effect and Nathaniel stared at her silently for a while, feeling as though she'd slapped him in the face. Then he shook his head. "See what we're doing again? Quarrelling because of my mo… that woman. I don't want her or anyone to stand between us, Kitty. I love you."

Kitty's strict features softened. "I love you too… but _she_ too loves you. And you're closing her out of your life just because you're afraid of showing affection to her."

"I'm not afraid." He scowled at her, looking like a defiant little boy. "Does she know about the baby?"

"Yes. Actually, that's the only thing I told her."

"_What_ exactly have you told her?"

Kitty shrugged. "I told her that magicians aren't supposed to have children but I got pregnant despite the prohibition and we have to hide the child until she turns five. Your mum doesn't know more and she didn't even ask more. I think she thought your current life was something that _you_ were supposed to tell her, when you felt ready to."

He looked relieved. "Apparently you didn't tell her much… but then what were you two talking about for a whole week?"

Kitty allowed herself a chuckle. "Mostly about your childhood. She told me stories about almost every photo she showed me. And she showed me hundreds of little Nathaniel pics…" Her glance fell on the photo lying on the table. "I liked this one most, so she said I could keep it." He didn't reply, so Kitty continued. "You can't forbid me to meet her in the future."

He let out a sigh. "It never even occurred to me to forbid you. Meet her if you like, just be careful what you talk to her about."

"Don't worry, I won't give away information that I'm not supposed to give away." She sent him a half-sad, half-sarcastic smile. "I'm not going to ruin your career. I know it means too much to you."

"My clever, understanding wife." Nathaniel smiled and closed her into his arms.

_Clever and understanding, huh?_ – Kitty thought dejectedly. _I will always come second after your career…_

She blinked back a tear as his lips descended upon hers and forced herself not to dwell on sad thoughts when he was here and he loved her. He might love his career more than her, but for now she decided to be happy with as much as he could give.

o o o O O O o o o

I spent hours lying in the pentacle after the torturing. My mistress had 'graciously' allowed me to recuperate before I continued spying on Nathaniel.

I returned to Mandrake estate to make sure that he had indeed left for the countryside, then vanished and reappeared in Fenny Bridges, in the form of a crow.

I perched on an apple tree in Nat's garden and observed the scene in front of me: the kid was standing on a ladder, picking apples and handing them to Kitty who put them into a basket. It was idyllic, really, and I knew that this idyll wouldn't last long, because I had revealed the kid's name to Jane Farrar. The memory tore at my soul like a silver knife. I had never had such horrible pangs of remorse. I felt queasy when I pictured her face upon hearing his name. She had barely managed to hide her delight and kept repeating 'Nathaniel, Nathaniel, Nathaniel', savouring the word. It had been a sickening sight.

Kitty's laughter shook me out of my reverie. How my heart ached for her at that moment! I didn't yet know what awaited Nathaniel, but I was sure that whatever it was, it would ruin the poor girl's life as well. I seriously hoped Nat would never ever summon me again, because I doubted if I could look him in the eye after all I had done. I knew I shouldn't have felt guilty, as it had been Jane Farrar's fault, not mine, but still… I couldn't help it.

Trying to fight down my pangs of remorse, I followed the Mandrake couple wherever they went that day. They walked around the village hand in hand, made a paper ship and let it sail down the nearby creek (Nat proved to be extremely untalented in origami), and returned to the small house in the evening with healthy, pink faces. I had never seen the kid looking this healthy, there wasn't a trace of his usual pallor. Too bad this couldn't last… if my mistress could help it, Nat would fall seriously ill soon. Probably even drop dead. Though I didn't think that the Tramp would be satisfied with killing him. She wanted more than that. She wanted him to suffer.

I turned into a spider and followed them into the house. The sight that greeted me made my heart sink even more. They were standing in the living room, half naked (they must have started undressing each other while I was changing forms outside) and Nat rested his right hand on Kitty's abdomen. He seemed mesmerised. "It… it actually shows now," I heard his whisper. He sounded touched, excited and scared at the same time.

"Yeah, it does," Kitty replied, placing a hand over his.

"I didn't even notice it last week…"

Kitty gave him a lopsided grin. "Our daughter decided it was time to start growing rapidly so that her father could see and be proud of her."

The kid chuckled. He looked embarrassed but… sort of happy. I saw he still couldn't figure what to make of the situation, he still hadn't fully accepted becoming a daddy, but something had definitely started in him. There was a spark. I hated to think that this spark would be smothered by Jane Farrar. I wondered what the bitch was about to do to Nathaniel. Would she use a curse? Would she shout his name from the rooftops? I had no idea. And I hoped I'd never even find out.

o o o O O O o o o

Jane bent over a huge, ancient tome that had once belonged to her master and now to her. _Very Wicked Curses for Every Occasion. _The same book in which she had looked up the torturing nexus. When she had been looking for the description and incantation of the nexus a few days earlier, she had stumbled upon this curse by mistake. Back then she hadn't even hoped she'd have a chance to use it, as this curse required the name of the person you wanted to use it on. Now that she knew John's real name, she was dead set on using it on him.

"The Rack of Retribution," she murmured delightedly as her eyes ran across the page. It read: '_One of the deadliest curses, invented by none other than Mim, Merlin's archenemy. Not many people know that she placed this curse on King Arthur. It was the curse's work that Guinever fell in love with Lancelot and cheated on her husband. It was also by the curse that Arthur got seduced by his sister who gave birth to their son Mordred, who finally murdered his own father. Be very careful with this curse and only use it on people you really hate.'_

Jane allowed herself a smile. "Thanks for the warning, I will use it on someone I really hate."

'_Once you have read out the text of the curse, concentrate on the person you want to receive it and say his or her given name. Then sit back and enjoy the results. But remember: the curse takes effect gradually. It may take years before it completely ruins the subject of your hatred.'_

"No problem, I have all the time in the world," the female magician muttered, then bent closer to the book to make sure she wouldn't misread a single letter. She had to be really careful with the text, as it was written in Middle English. "_May thou lose everie thing whilk thou holdest preciose, may everie one whilk thou doste cherish leave thee, may thou falle from grace and walke on earthe as beseemeth an outcaste, any may misfortune accompanie thee as long as mine hate for thee liveth… Nathaniel."_

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: evil enough? ;)**

**Next chapter is going to be a mammoth one, the longest chapter I've ever written in a fanfic. Stay tuned :)**


	17. Family Is Nice But Power Is Nicer

**A/N: okay, promised mammoth chapter here. I posted a link in my ffnet bio to an illustration of this chapter.**

**I replied to the longer reviews I got for chapter 16, but I'm not sure all of them went through, given that ffnet kindly held all alerts back. Therefore, I'm thanking everyone here who reviewed chapter 16: _Fredryck, LandUnderWave, Slytherin Daughter, Saldaen farmgirl, XxBlackChaosxX, uptowngirl48, Phoenix, annatari.the.writer, Aiko Moonchild, Rebel Rose, Queen Dragon, Glitara Keladry Sophia, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, Duck Goddess, Musica Diabolos, Jardin, Pyshcodelic-Pixie, Mewhoelse, Starfire Gracen, Teya Yashitoda, Valmoer_**

**Chapter 17**

**Family Is Nice But Power Is Nicer**

Weeks passed and I still didn't know what my mistress was about to do to Nathaniel. I tried to subtly question her when she first summoned me after that horrible nexus-incident, but she was cleverer than she looked and however subtly I was asking her, she saw through it and snapped at me that she wasn't foolish enough to tell a demon what she was up to. Oh well, at least I had tried.

So, I kept spying on the Mandrakes (though I didn't really see the point any longer: Farrar had got the most invaluable information she could ever get about a magician; why did she insist on finding out the baby's name as well?). I stayed at the Mandrake estate on weekdays and more and more often even on weekends as well, as Nathaniel had less and less time to visit Kitty in Fenny Bridges, due to latest attacks by supposed American terrorists.

Earlier I had thought that the kid and that Ffoukes chap had managed to round up all the Yankee spies, but apparently I had been wrong. Funnily enough, these spies had got into the habit of making skirmishes at weekends or on Fridays to make sure that the Department of Internal Affairs would have to work throughout the weekend. Just to annoy them even more.

I must admit I could somehow sympathize with them. The Empire was winning battle after battle in the Americas which must have made the Yankees even more bloodthirsty. They were losing their country and their freedom, after all. I, who had served hundreds of masters throughout the millennia, knew better than anyone what longing for freedom meant. The only difference between magical entities and the rebellious Americans was that we didn't have the blessing of free will. We couldn't rebel without having to suffer the consequences - the Shrivelling Fire. The Americans whom Nat and his department caught and imprisoned had _only_ had to suffer some minor torture in the interrogation process. Nothing as bad as the evil pink nexus that the Tramp subjected me to. The Yankees at least had the option to confess nothing to their interrogators.

Mind you, weeks and weeks ago I had eavesdropped on conversations between Nat and Kitty in which Kitty had asked him whether he actually tortured his victims. The kid had admitted that he didn't (and had asked her, blushing slightly, not to mention this to anyone. I suspected he was ashamed of being such a 'softie'.) Nowadays, however, I listened to a few phone conversations between him and various Internal Affairs employees in which he instructed them to torture the suspects they had taken into the Tower after Carl Mortensen's car had been blown into smithereens (with Carl Mortensen sitting in it.).

To put it in a nutshell: the kid was overworking, not having time for his wife (not to mention he still didn't seem to show any interest in his mother), and without Kitty's beneficial effect on him, he was turning nastier every day. Whether this change in him had anything to do with Jane Farrar, I didn't know, so for the time being I put it down to the grim situation, the lack of sleep and the love (and sex) deprivation the kid was suffering from.

Kitty kept phoning him every evening, but most of the time he told her he was in the Tower in the middle of an interrogation or on the scene of the latest terrorist attack, and promising her to phone her later, he ended the call. Naturally, by the time he got into bed around three in the morning, he was so tired he completely forgot to call her. (I was pretty sure Kitty wouldn't have been happy to be woken by a ringing telephone at such an ungodly hour.)

Between Halloween and Christmas the kid only managed to visit his wife once, but instead of whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears or going at it like rabbits, they didn't do much as Nat spent the whole weekend asleep and Kitty didn't have the heart to tire him in any way. She was very understanding, really. I suspected that if she'd known Nat was actually torturing the spies these days, she wouldn't have been this understanding.

The only good thing that Nat had done in the past two months was that he'd decided to spend Christmas with his wife, even if Yankee terrorists were bombing Parliament. I hoped Christmas would bring a little change in his behaviour – a change for the better.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel got out of his Ford, only to be hit by an enormous snowball. "Hey!"

Kitty stuck her head out from behind a tree, chuckling. "Been waiting for you, Love."

"It's not nice greeting your poor husband with snowballs," Nathaniel said, trying to look hurt, but didn't really manage. He couldn't help smiling as he dusted snow off his coat. "I'd return the favour if you weren't pregnant."

"You'll return the favour next year." She winked at him and hurried into his arms, pressing her lips to his. He pulled her close, deepening the kiss, his hands running through her snowflake-splattered hair, then suddenly drew back, his eyes wide.

"She… she _moved_!"

"Yeah." Kitty gently patted her now slightly bulging belly through her winter coat. "She's doing that rather frequently these days. You visited over a month ago, and she hadn't been doing this back then."

Seeing the slightly reproachful expression on her face he heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, Kitty. You know I've been too busy with work. The Americans, they're bombing everything they can. Last time they went for the London underground… luckily we got a tip-off in time and managed to prevent it. Thousands could have died."

"As thousands _are_ dying in the Americas," Kitty pointed out. "Both Brits and Americans. And why? Because Deveraux wants more power."

"You sound as though you were blaming it on me." Nathaniel frowned. "I have no part in this madness. I'm just taking care of things in Britain, protecting our citizens."

"Yes, you're a hero."

"Do I detect sarcasm in your voice?" He arched an eyebrow at her.

"No, why would I be sarcastic?" She rolled her eyes. "I just hate war. I'm afraid of it."

"You, afraid? You're the bravest girl I've ever known, Kitty. You never seemed to be afraid of anything."

"I'm expecting a baby, Nathaniel. I'm protective of her." She ran a gloved hand over her belly. "The Empire might be winning these days, but some day the Americans might get strong enough to fight back, and not only by bombing certain buildings in London in secret, but by openly declaring war on us. I don't want to bring a child into war."

"I understand that. But I can't do anything against Deveraux's politics. As you've once so kindly reminded me, I'm a minor minister."

"But you're Deveraux's little favourite," she replied. "You're almost like a son to him. And you said you had a chance of becoming more than just Minister of Internal Affairs. You could get more power… but if you do, use it for good."

Nathaniel looked away. If Kitty knew what he was using his powers for at the moment… American spies were possibly begging for mercy in the Tower right now. _I can't go soft, _he told himself._ I'm doing it for my homeland!_ He put an arm around Kitty. "It's cold. Let's go in, shall we?"

o o o O O O o o o

"Wakie-wakie," Kitty ticked Nathaniel's nose with the ends of her hair.

"Mmmm?" He groaned. "What? We've just fallen asleep!"

"It was hours and hours ago," she replied, planting a kiss on his bare chest. "You took me to bed too early, Mr Mandrake… we even skipped dinner, remember?"

A satisfied smile spread on his face. "Yeah… it was lovely. I never thought a pregnant woman could be this exciting…" He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. "Half past eleven? It isn't even Christmas Day, why have you woken me?"

"Because we're going to the Midnight Mass," Kitty said determinedly and got out of bed to start to dress.

"To the _church_?" His eyes widened.

"Why, where else do they have a mass?"

"I'm not going."

Kitty glowered at him, her arms akimbo. "And why, if I may ask?"

He sat up. "I'm just not the type… I've never been in a church… outside our wedding. I don't believe in God."

"You don't need to believe in God to go to the church at Christmas. I've always wanted to go to a Midnight Mass but my parents never took me, saying it was dangerous to go out after curfew… but in this village, it must be so… romantic, don't you think? Just look out the window, it's snowing."

"So, freezing to death in a cold church at the middle of the night is your idea of romantic?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"Yes. You can stay if you want, but I'm going. And if you want to take care of your fragile, pregnant wife, then you should accompany me." With a grin she continued dressing.

"Fragile, you? You've got to be kidding." Sighing, the young magician got out of bed. "If I catch a cold and infect everyone in Parliament, it will be your fault."

"Actually, I wouldn't mind seeing a few bigheaded ministers with runny noses," Kitty giggled, kissing him gently on the lips. "Dress quick and warm."

"Warm? I don't have clothes warm enough for minus ten Celsius," Nathaniel complained, pulling on his trousers. "I'm used to the London winter and it isn't nearly as cold as it is here."

Kitty gave him a piercing look. "And you forced your pregnant wife to live in such a horribly cold village… tsk-tsk, it should be me complaining, but I'm _not_, so _you_'d better stop whining. Besides…" She stepped to the wardrobe, pulling out a package. "I didn't want to give this to you before tomorrow morning, but you could make good use of it now."

The young man took the package from her and quickly opened it. It contained a thick, blue cap and a long, navy and sky blue striped scarf. "Thank you. This really comes in handy…"

"Yeah, I noticed it. You never wear a cap, no matter how cold it is because you think it's beneath your dignity and a cap would only dishevel or flatten your hair... But tell you what, your hair will fall out before you turn fifty if you continue like this. And the scarves you've worn so far… I'm sure they look extremely trendy but a ballerina's tulle tutu is thicker and warmer than those. Come on, put them on, I'd like to see whether I have chosen the right shade yarn. I wanted the cap to match your eye-colour."

"You chose the yarn?" Nathaniel asked, pulling on his jumper. "And who knitted it?"

"Me."

He blinked. "You _can _knit?"

Kitty gave him a lopsided grin. "You have no idea how many things I know… I'm a perfect accountant, for example. Bet you didn't know that. I learned it in Mr Pennyfeather's employ. Knitting I learned from your mum."

Nathaniel didn't really know what to reply. Every time his mother was mentioned, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I can't really imagine you knitting, you know… you're not the type."

"There's not much one can do in this village so I decided to learn." She shrugged. "Come on, let's go or we'll be late."

"Wait. Just a moment." Nathaniel fished a small box out of the pocket of his coat. "I too wanted to give this to you tomorrow, but _you_ started the early package-opening… Merry Christmas, Love."

Kitty let out a gasp as she opened the box. It held a diamond necklace with a rose-shaped ruby in the middle. "Nathaniel! You shouldn't have… really, I… Heavens, this must have cost you a small fortune!"

He gently pressed his index finger on her lips. "Don't start this 'too expensive' thing again, okay? Nothing is too expensive for me to see you happy."

Kitty cupped his face in her hands. "It's beautiful, but it's not the necklace that makes me happy but having you here with me. I was so afraid you wouldn't be able to come at Christmas…"

"I wouldn't miss my first Christmas with you if my life depended on it… As for the necklace, I saw it in a shop window and couldn't resist the temptation… it reminded me so much of you. That ruby, it's just as fiery as you are. Besides, I'd love to see the ladies at balls turning green with envy."

"Oh, so you admit it wasn't a completely selfless purchase!" Kitty playfully boxed him in the chest. "You want to show-off."

He grinned down at her. "So what? I love showing off." He pulled on the cap and wound the scarf around his neck. "Feels nice and warm. Let's go, then."

o o o O O O o o o

It had been snowing so hard that by midnight snow had completely covered the kid's Ford, and not only the Ford but the road that led into the village as well. So, they decided to walk to the church. A mere ten minute walk, according to Kitty. They even seemed to be enjoying walking in the snow, but me… well, I didn't.

As the only birds around at this time of year were crows, I could have turned into a crow, but even crows were asleep so late and the kid and Kitty would have found it suspicious if a crow had been following them. I could as well have turned into a stray dog but it might have made them think that I either had fleas or rabies and Nat might have summoned a demon to scare me away, and the demon might have noticed I was not a dog on the upper planes. So, I chose the only form that they couldn't notice in the snowstorm: a fly. I must admit I had never before seen a fly in winter and I was sure that neither had they, but it wasn't likely they would notice a little black fleck in the flurry of white specks. Or even if they had spotted me, they would have thought their eyes were playing tricks on them.

So, the fly kept fighting against the wind and the snow, fluttering his tiny wings and sneezing once in a while. (Yeah, I know that flies can't really sneeze, but I wasn't an ordinary fly, okay? I _could _sneeze. Sort of.)

We reached the chapel (it wasn't even a church, it was so tiny) shortly after midnight. The village was as pretty as a picture. All the small houses were covered with a thick, white carpet; snowflakes were dancing in the air, and icicles hung from the eaves, ethereally glistening in the warm, orange light coming through the windows. (That was very poetic, wasn't it? And imagine just how poetic I could have been if I hadn't been developing a nasty cold!)

So, we got there a little late, but we weren't the only ones late. In the chapel door we met the doctor, that Smith chap. He greeted the Mandrakes and they all entered the chapel. It was fairly warm in there and I welcomed the warmth. Flies don't like winter. We really don't.

The kid whispered to Kitty that he wanted to sit in the pews at the back – whether to avoid attention or to be able to leave quickly and unnoticed if things were getting unbearable for him, I didn't know. (Why would he find a sermon unbearable, you may ask? Well, remember that Nathaniel is evil. And Evil doesn't like churches and sermons. I imagined that the kid would be feeling rather unwell if the vicar started preaching about fidelity, selflessness or keeping promises. People hate having to listen to their own sins.)

In the event, the kid didn't leave the church, though I did think he was feeling awkward, listening to Christmas carols and the vicar's preaching about the birth of little Jesus. After all, Nat had once wanted to get rid of his own child. I still wasn't sure he wanted the little one. There had been a few moments when he seemed excited about becoming a daddy, but I kept wondering whether those hadn't only been just 'moments of excitement' without any real anticipation. I still couldn't imagine him cradling a baby. Come to think of it, he very likely wouldn't ever do that – they intended to put the little one into the orphanage as soon as it was born. At least Nat intended to. I was sure Kitty would have loved to mother the baby for at least a few months after its birth… but would Nat let her be a mother? And would _Jane_ let them be parents at all? I shuddered at this thought. Or perhaps only because I felt cold. I felt like sneezing again.

Speaking of parents… A figure with long, wavy, greying hair, sitting on the right hand side of the third pew, turned slightly around and the kid stiffened. Their eyes met and he looked away.

"You knew she'd be here," he whispered to Kitty.

"Yes, I did. And you'd better be nice to her. It's Christmas," she whispered back.

"I'm leaving."

"You're not," Kitty hissed to him. "If you leave now, my bedroom door will be closed to you till Easter. Or even longer."

Ha. Blackmail always works. And it did this time as well. The kid gave his wife a scowl then turned away from her, defiantly focusing his attention on the vicar so that his mother didn't even have a chance to catch his eyes again.

Finally, the service was over and the people headed for the door, filing out one by one as they didn't want to open the door more than necessary, to make sure that the chapel wouldn't go completely cold. Nathaniel pulled Kitty quickly towards the door to be out of the building as quick as possible. He hadn't been quick enough though.

"Wait!" someone shouted after him once they were outside.

The kid pretended not to have heard it or to have thought the cry had been addressed to someone else. He determinedly trod in the knee-high snow, not looking back. He pulled Kitty along with him (she glanced back at Esther, her eyes radiating something like 'I'm sorry, I've tried') and they went, just went in silence for some distance.

The woman, however, seemed just as stubborn as him and wouldn't let him go just like that. Stumbling in the snow, she ran after him. "Wait! Nathaniel!"

This made the kid turn around. "Don't utter my name where others can hear you," he hissed.

The woman panted. "No one can hear us now. Everyone went in the other direction." It was true – they had left the church behind and no one was around at the moment. "Do you think I'd want to ruin your life by calling you Nathaniel in front of others?"

The kid knitted his eyebrows. "I wouldn't put it past you. You've ruined my life once already."

I felt like kicking him. Pity that flies couldn't kick a human. He would have deserved it. His poor mum was on the verge of tears. But she drew herself up, blinked back a tear and gave him a smile. Not a forced smile, but a genuine, warm, loving one. She smiled the way only a mother can smile at her spoilt, naughty, ungrateful child.

"I just wanted to wish you merry Christmas, Son."

Nat froze. No, not because of the cold. He had his wonderfully warm cap and scarf knitted by Kitty. The only person literally freezing there was I. The kid had frozen in the other sense of the word. (He was surprised, in case you haven't understood). He must have expected a snappy comeback after what he'd told her, and he was shocked when instead of the sarcasm and nastiness he'd got used to in magician circles, he got a loving smile and a 'merry Christmas'.

For a few seconds he stared at the woman, then he surprised me more than he ever had. He said: "Merry Christmas to you too, Esther."

Had I seen the shadow of a smile on his face? I might have. I don't know.

After this, the kid turn on his heels, grabbed Kitty's hand again and marched away, towards their little house.

Esther stared after them for a while, the smile never leaving her face. I, the poor, frozen fly, flew after the Mandrakes, longing to turn into a human and sink into a tub of hot water. Fat chance. I couldn't let them or Enid spot me, thanks to that tramp Jane Farrar. I seriously hoped she was having a horribly lonely Christmas…

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel woke to an extremely pleasant smell. His eyes still closed, he sniffed the air. "Mmm… apple pie…"

He quickly dressed and hurried into the tiny kitchen to find Kitty busying herself with slicing the pie into small pieces and placing them into a box.

"Looks and smells wonderful," Nathaniel remarked, reaching for a slice, but Kitty slapped his hand.

"This isn't yours. It's for the orphans."

He made a sour face. "But just one slice…"

"Perhaps… you could get one, along with the children in the orphanage. Of course you'd have to come with me there…" She looked away, hiding a smirk.

"That's the second time you've blackmailed me in twenty-four hours, you know," he pointed out.

"Yes, I know." She grinned at him, closing the box, denying him access to the delicious pie.

"I hope you didn't bake a pie just to lure me into the orphanage," Nathaniel said dryly.

"No. I did it because I wanted to give the kids something for Christmas. Those little ones barely ever get sweets." She gave him a serious look. "The orphanage is extremely poor, Nathaniel. Just to think that our baby will have to spend five years there…" She shuddered. "Of course both the matrons are nice – your mum is like a mother to all the children there – but not even their love and caring can make up for the things they're lacking… proper clothes, healthy food, toys and books…"

Nathaniel began chewing his lower lip. "Well… I could make donations…"

Kitty's face lit up. "Would you?"

He shrugged. "I promised you I'd never let our child be in need. So yes, I will send them monthly donations. But I'll need to pick another two or three orphanages to send money to, because if I were supporting one orphanage only, it would wake suspicion. You know that sometimes we Ministers are required to make reports of our assets, just to prove that we haven't gathered money by illegal means…" He made a grimace. "Of course most ministers do tricks to lead the inspectors astray… But I think it's a petty thing to do. However, if I make donations, it will show in my tax returns, and I don't want to get awkward questions. If I support three-four orphanages instead of one, people will simply think I'm generous."

"Do as you see fit, just help those kids, they need it badly." Kitty reached out and squeezed his hand. "And now, care to accompany me to the orphanage and taste my apple pie?"

His mouth tucked into a lopsided grin. "First the Midnight Mass, now this… you know just how to talk me into crazy things…"

Kitty gave him a brilliant smile and kissed him on the cheek. "Go, brush your teeth and do something with your hair. You look horribly scruffy."

o o o O O O o o o

Still feeling rather sick, I followed them to the orphanage, in the form of a gnat. You can't see any gnats in winter, that's true, but at least a gnat was small enough to remain unnoticed. I just had to take a place somewhere on the ceiling or on the wall, out of reach of possible fly-swatters.

One of the matrons – not Nat's mother – opened the door for the Mandrakes and let them in. Relative warmth greeted us in the tiny hall. I said _relative_. It was warmer than outside, but definitely not warm enough to be pleasant to spend hours there.

"You'd better not take your coats off," the matron said in an apologetic voice. "You'd just catch a cold."

"Is the building always this cold in winter?" Nathaniel asked with a frown.

"Unfortunately, yes. We don't have enough money to pay the gas bills, so we have to heat with coal and wood, but that doesn't help much," the woman replied. "But we're trying to cope. The children are having breakfast right now. Why don't you join us?"

I saw the kid was feeling rather embarrassed at the moment. I had an idea what he could be thinking about: his huge, pompous house in London, his limousine and the diamond-ruby necklace he'd bought for Kitty. I hoped he was feeling thoroughly ashamed.

"Er… no thanks, we've already had breakfast," he replied finally, his voice sounding weird, as though it were wavering.

"You can still come and greet the children," Kitty said, taking him by the hand and pulling him into the 'dining room' that was small and shabby. It was apparent that the two matrons and the older children had tried to keep it clean, but washing the tile floor and cleaning the window didn't improve the looks of the room much: the wallpaper was peeling, the curtains were tattered, the rug threadbare and the table around which the seven orphans were sitting on rickety chairs, was worm-eaten.

"Hello, dears," Kitty greeted the children.

"Hello, Kitty!" they answered in unison, with beaming faces.

"Meet my husband, John," she continued.

"Hello, John! Mewwy Chwistmas!" a little girl of about four years waved at him with butter-smeared hands.

The kid coyly waved back. Apparently he wasn't used to being friendly to children.

"We've brought you some apple pie," Kitty announced, and seeing the orphans' smiles, she quickly added: "But only after you've eaten your breakfast!"

Some resigned moans could be heard.

Suddenly another woman entered the dining room through another door. She was carrying a jug of milk. As she spotted the kid, she stopped in her stride. They stared at each other for a few seconds. She didn't seem to believe her eyes, seeing Nat here.

The kid's cheek was turning slightly pink. "Er… good morning, Esther," he said.

A huge smile spread on her face. "Good morning… John."

For a second I thought she'd call him Nathaniel. But she had enough sense not to.

"Why don't you give this to me?" Kitty gently pulled the jug out of Esther's hand and began pouring milk into the children's cups. "Mary," she turned to the other matron, "would you give everyone a slice of pie?"

Esther and Nathaniel glanced at each other, then at the two women busying themselves with the children. Kitty somehow managed to kick him gently (mind you, really gently) in the shin when she stepped closer to take a little boy's cup. The kick had been enough for Nat to realise that he was supposed to leave the dining room with Esther.

"Er… would you show me around?" he asked the woman, who nodded with a smile.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel's mind was reeling. What was he supposed to do? What should he tell her? Was it a good idea at all to come here, giving her a chance to… to get close to him? And how was one supposed to treat his mother at all?

Thoughts chasing each other in his mind, he followed Esther through a short corridor, into a more or less bigger room. The balls and dolls scattered around suggested this was some kind of a living room where the children played.

Esther stepped to the couch, patting it next to her. "Why don't you sit down?"

Nathaniel gulped. "I… I'd rather not. If you don't mind."

Her smile faded a bit, but she nodded understandingly. "As you wish."

The young magician looked out the window to see a snow-covered landscape. "Really pretty view," he murmured.

"Yes, pretty, isn't it?" The woman stood up and walked up to him. "You never wondered why you chose Fenny Bridges of all places?"

Nathaniel knitted his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Kitty said you'd randomly chosen a village that you somehow felt sounded familiar, even though you'd never been here before. Did you never wonder why?"

He was getting confused by her smile. It was an innocent, heart-warming smile, but he didn't know what to think of it. What was she hinting at? "Um… well, I did, but… do you think there's an explanation?"

"Of course there is." She reached out and put a hand on Nathaniel's arm. He didn't shrug it off. "You don't remember – _consciously _you don't remember, but I used to tell you stories about Fenny Bridges to lull you to sleep. I was born here, but I moved to London after I got to know your father. You were born in London and we lived there until…" She sighed and looked away. "You loved listening to my tales of my home village. I told you about the creek, the green-fenced houses… You once said you'd love to visit it… you said you'd build paper ships with your sister and…" Her voice trailed off and a tear ran down her cheek.

Nathaniel felt an urge to reach out and wipe it off, but held back. He wasn't ready to show affection to her. Not yet. Coming here and talking to her had been a big enough step for him; he couldn't take more at the moment. So, he only said: "Was I ever good at building paper ships? I tried it last autumn but failed miserably…"

She let out a sound that half resembled a laugh, half a sniff. "No… you were really bad at that kind of thing. But you were good at drawing. I still have some of the pictures you drew… would you like to see them?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Why not? I'm sure they're horrible, but-" The mobile phone in his breast pocket rang. "Excuse me. It's a friend… must be urgent." He pressed the 'receive call' button. "Hi, Ffoukes. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you too, John," the other magician's voice sounded anything but merry, it was rather agitated and tired. "I hate to cut your visit with your wife short, but you've got to return to London. Immediately."

"Why, what's happened?" Nathaniel frowned.

"Haven't you watched the news?"

"No. I haven't seen a newscast for two days. Not another terrorist attack, is it?"

"No, thank heaven," Ffoukes panted into the receiver. He must have run. "We won last night."

"We won? You mean, another victory in the Americas?"

"Another, and the final. The American rebels surrendered this morning."

"But that's good news, isn't it? So why so agitated?"

"Deveraux wanted to make a victory speech, but he's fallen ill."

"Nothing serious, I hope…"

"Unfortunately, it is. Pneumonia. The doctors say he'll live, but he can't leave his bed for the time being. However, he insists that the speech be given in any event."

"Well, Weatherby's there for that…"

"You wish. Weatherby's got the flu or something and his vocal cords have completely failed him. Deveraux wants _you_ to give the speech."

"Me?" Nathaniel gasped. "But… but… when? Where?"

"This afternoon, at three in Trafalgar Square."

"What? But that's impossible! I'm at the back of beyond, Ffoukes! It'd normally take around four hours to return to London, but if you haven't noticed, it's been snowing heavily for over a day! The roads are impassable! Even if I summoned a fire demon to melt the snow before my car, it would take over six hours to reach London!"

"Well, it's half past eight," Ffoukes replied. "If you hop into your car right away, you might reach here in time. We're counting on you, John. _Deveraux_ is counting on you. He chose you, of all ministers. Not the Foreign Minister, not the Information Minister, but you. I'm telling you, unofficially you're his deputy already. It's up to you alone whether you want it to be official any time soon."

Nathaniel stared out the window, grabbing his mobile phone so tight that his knuckles turned white.

"Everything all right?" His mother asked with a worried face. That was when he realised she was still there. He'd completely forgotten about her.

"Yes." He nodded. "Ffoukes, you can count on me."

o o o O O O o o o

"Kitty, we've got to talk."

Kitty was quite surprised when her husband stormed into the dining room, took her by the hand and dragged her out into the hall, then at random, into an unoccupied room. "Nathaniel, what…?"

"I just got a phone call from Ffoukes," he said excitedly. "We've won the war in the Americas!"

Kitty blanched slightly. "And?"

"_And?_ Aren't you a bit happy? The war is over! You won't be brining a child into war, you no longer have to worry about it!" Nathaniel grabbed her shoulders and squeezed them, a little more vehemently than could be called gentle. "And it's not the only news - Deveraux's fallen ill, and he wants me to substitute for him today, giving a speech in Trafalgar Square! You know what this means?"

She looked at him silently for a few seconds, then nodded. "It means you're getting recognised, and probably promoted as well."

"Yes! But I've got to go now, immediately, or I'll be late for my own speech!"

"So much for spending Christmas with me…" Kitty sighed.

"Don't make such a face, Kitty," he said through gritted teeth. "Oh, and before I forget – in case people in the village see the TV broadcast of the speech and ask you whether it was me giving the speech, just tell them no. Tell them something like 'oh, how funny, you're the fifth person already who says how much my husband resembles that Minister…' Or just make up something. I don't want anyone to know that the man visiting you in this god-forsaken village is the Minister of Internal Affairs."

"So, you're again asking me to lie in your favour?" she asked glumly, crossing her arms.

"Oh, don't ruin my happiness, please! This is my great chance!"

She faked a smile. "Then I wish you good luck, John."

"Thanks." He quickly pulled her close, kissed her on the lips and hurried towards the door, not having noticed that she'd called him John again.

o o o O O O o o o

You should have seen the disappointment on poor Kitty's face! But no, Nat hadn't noticed it. He hadn't noticed his mother's sadness either when he'd told her he had to go back to London and left her in the children's playroom without even a hug. Nat hadn't noticed anything at the time, he was too full of himself, too ecstatic about the chance he was given to prove himself… Honestly, what was so special about a speech that would very likely be full of lies?

I followed the kid as he ran back to the little house he was renting. He pulled his 'summoning kit' out of the car's boot and hurried into the disused bedroom of the house. He pulled some chalk out of the bag and drew two simple pentacles on the floor, then lit the candles, placed the necessary herbs around and summoned a fire demon, a third level djinni. He instructed my unfortunate colleague to turn invisible in order to not attract much attention, then melt the snow around his car and keep melting the snow in front of the Ford on the whole journey back to London. I saw that my colleague wasn't charmed by the idea, but hey, we've all been given worse tasks. He couldn't complain. It was a cold and wet job, but he was a fire demon, for heaven's sake! He couldn't catch a cold, unlike me (I was still suffering from a runny nose which could be rather unpleasant if you're a gnat – gnats don't have hankies, you know).

I took a place in the Ford's rear window and enjoyed the relative warmth of the car's inside. Mind you, it was again just a _relative _warmth. I still felt cold. And bored. Having to listen to a lengthy phone conversation between Nat and the Prime Minister about the things the speech had to contain made me yawn every five seconds. (As much as gnats can yawn.) I was also getting sick hearing the kid gushing 'oh, Mr Deveraux, I'm so grateful for this chance', 'I can't express with words how honoured I feel', and so on, and so on. The kid had learned the way of arse-licking, and I was sure he barely could wait to be powerful enough to have his own arse-lickers.

Despite the fire demon's work, we still weren't going fast enough for the kid's liking. We had to stand in a queue once near the town of Basingstoke. Two snow ploughs were trying to clear the snow off the road, and working rather slowly. I was rather enjoying the kid's frustration over having to wait patiently in the queue. Of course he could have got out of the car, yelled at the snow ploughs' drivers to clear off and let his demon do the work, but I suspected he didn't want to attract attention – at least not yet.

Finally, shortly before three o'clock, we arrived in London. The traffic was as bad as usual and it was five past three when we got to Trafalgar Square. The kid phoned Ffoukes to let him know that he'd arrived but couldn't access the podium because of the crowd.

"No problem," I heard Ffoukes' voice coming through Nat's mobile phone. "Just give me your exact location and I'll fetch you with an afrit. Deveraux graciously placed one of his afrits at your disposal."

"Oh, wonderful," Nat said and explained where exactly he was parking his car.

In two minutes Ffoukes appeared. "Hi, John. Nice scarf," he remarked with a grin.

"Oh, thanks. My wife knitted it. The cap too. Good that you remind me…" He pulled the cap and the scarf off himself and threw them onto the driver's seat of his Ford. I expect he didn't want people to see an important person like him wearing a fluffy blue cap and matching scarf. Such attire was okay for Nathaniel, but improper for Minister Mandrake.

For a moment Ffoukes paused, looking at the kid's Ford that was quite tiny compared to his usual limousine. "Cutesy little thing."

Nathaniel shrugged, trying to look indifferent. "I'm collecting cars. Shall we?"

The afrit that had made a way for Ffoukes through the throng led them to the podium. I was displeased to see that the magicians had fastened a tent-like thingie over it to protect the speaker from the possible droppings of the pigeons indigenous to Trafalgar Square. I would have loved to see the kid bombarded with pigeon excrement. He would have deserved it after having left his family at Christmas…

When the kid had thrown his scarf and cap into the car, I had turned into a spider and scurried out onto the pavement where I turned into a fly and followed them to the podium, hoping that the afrit and other bodyguard demons around wouldn't check me out on the upper planes.

The square was full of curious commoners, some of them waving the British flag. As I flew above the crowd, I spotted policemen and magical entities all around – they were presumably trying to protect the citizens in case there was a riot. I wasn't one for riots, but this time I wouldn't have minded one – at least the kid's speech would have been ruined.

I even spotted Jane Farrar near the podium. She was eyeing Nat rather darkly as he ascended the steps. At that moment I couldn't decide whom to root for: Jane who was an evil bitch or Nat who was a stupid jerk. I couldn't help it, I was still partial to Nat, even though I was mad at him for having disappointed his mum and wife.

"…and now, Ladies and Gentlemen, please listen to John Mandrake, Minister of Internal Affairs, whom our esteemed Prime Minster has asked to substitute for him today!"

Nathaniel drew himself up and stepped to the desk with the microphone. He looked slightly terrified by the sheer number of people listening to him, staring at him, expecting him to deliver an uplifting, inspiring speech. I allowed myself the pleasure of feeling satisfied by his momentary fright.

He adjusted his tie and took a deep breath. "Ladies and Gentlemen, dear children, beloved compatriots, citizens of the Empire! This Christmas is different from the rest – it is special for our nation, special for our country. This Christmas we, the British people have been given a wonderful gift – the gift of peace! After years and years of desperate fighting with the Americans, after having lost thousands of our valiant soldiers, our friends, our brothers, our fathers, finally, we can say that it's all behind us: WE HAVE WON!"

The crowd cheered, waved the flags and I saw the kid heave a relieved sigh. He had proved himself he wasn't that bad at this kind of thing. "The American rebels have capitulated this morning," he continued, his cheeks flushed with excitement. No doubt, he was enjoying all the attention. "We received the rebel leader's message of surrender at seven-thirty. In his message, he said he'd instructed all rebel forces to lay down their weapons throughout the country. No more bloodshed, no more death, no more suffering! Our nation has again proved to be strong, stronger than any nation on the face of Earth, and from now on, we will become even stronger! Stronger, because America is once more securely ours!"

Again cheers from the crowd, even louder than before.

"America is a rich country, with huge reserves of silver and copper, not to mention the immense uninhabited areas that are waiting for us to develop and build our cities on! With America once more under our control and with the Americans' taxes again flowing into our treasury, wealth awaits us, British citizens! Wealth beyond our imagination!"

Aha, of coooourse… The magicians will be even wealthier than before and the commoners won't notice any changes in their living standards. I bet Nat wasn't saying these things with the poverty he'd seen in the orphanage in mind. But what could you expect from a politician? There is no good or bad politician, there is only one kind of politician: who seeks powers and uses demagogy to persuade the people of his good will. It was sickening, yes, but pretty natural. Politicians have been doing the same for millennia. It wasn't new, but it was efficient, and Nathaniel knew it.

"Wealth for everyone within this Empire! From this day on, our slogan is Prosperity, Peace, Parity!"

People hoorayed, waved, and the kid looked really, really pleased with himself. He looked almost… predatory. Yeah, I think that's the right word for it. He was sizing up the crowd below like a lion checking out its prey. Like a lion, who knew that the prey was completely in its power. I didn't like this look on Nathaniel's face. Um… did I say _Nathaniel_? Oops. I meant to say John Mandrake. Because the young man speaking on the podium didn't resemble the once so innocent, good-hearted little Nat anymore. Just a few hours ago he had seemed to be softening in his mother's presence, but apparently the admiration of the crowd meant more to him than the love of his mother and wife.

Somewhere in the folds of the tent-cover, a fly sniffed. And not only because he had a cold.

o o o O O O o o o

Tears were running down Kitty's cheek as she stared at the television screen. She hated every word of her husband. It was all a lie. A beautifully fabricated lie, but a lie nevertheless. Peace? Prosperity? Parity? Whom was her husband fooling? Well, _her_ he definitely wasn't. She knew that it was all just talk. Promises that wouldn't be kept. _Why, has John ever kept a promise?_ – She thought, fishing her handkerchief out of her pocket.

There was a knock on the door and Kitty went to answer it.

"Oh, Esther."

"Why are you crying, child?" the older woman asked with a worried expression.

"I'm watching the Victory Speech," Kitty replied, wiping her tears.

"What victory speech?"

Kitty beckoned to Esther to take a place on the couch next to her. "Dear woman, here is your son," she whispered, pointing at the TV. "Be proud of him… if you can."

o o o O O O o o o

Weeks passed and Nathaniel was so busy substituting for Deveraux at various events that he didn't have time to visit Kitty at all. Once or twice a week he phoned her and asked how she was doing (once even asked about his mother) but I couldn't decide whether he really missed her (he told her every time on the phone that he did) or he considered his weekly calls a necessary but annoying obligation. Why would he consider talking to his wife annoying, you might ask? Well, because from what I gathered from their conversations, Kitty was every so often trying to talk him into being 'normal'. Because Nat was starting to become less and less 'normal' these days.

He was constantly basking in the light of fame, glory and power. He loved doing his new job: besides being Minister of Internal Affairs, he was now the unofficial Deputy PM. That old chap Weatherby was still the official deputy to Deveraux, but he was still having problems with his vocal cords and Deveraux was still weak from pneumonia, so the kid was filling in and enjoying it. I heard Ffoukes warning him about the envy of the other ministers, but the kid had just shrugged and said that the other ministers had tried to do him in at age twelve already and hadn't succeeded, so he didn't have any reason to be afraid of them now, especially because one of Deveraux's afrits was guarding him all the time.

Nat was becoming overconfident. Overconfident, overworking and overly an even bigger git than he'd used to be. Kitty didn't seem to have any influence on him anymore. Every time she tried to make him come to his senses, he told her off for being selfish and not being able to feel happy about his success. (Selfish, Kitty? The typical case of the pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me). I really felt like kicking him after these phone conversations.

Meanwhile, Jane Farrar kept summoning me once every week and forced me to tell her about every conversation of John's I had managed to eavesdrop on. I saw that she was most annoyed by his sudden fame, and for the first time I totally felt with her. I had been rooting for the kid for months, but now I no longer could decide whether he was any better than the Tramp.

I still didn't know what Farrar had done after she'd found out Nat's name, because she still refused to tell. I had a feeling it was something very, very bad, but couldn't help thinking that the kid deserved it, whatever it was. I no longer felt sorry for him, only for Kitty and their unborn child. Kitty deserved better for a husband than a power-hungry pretty boy who considered smiling into the cameras as the meaning of his life. That poor child too deserved someone better for a father – someone who cared enough to sit down at her bedside to tell her a story, instead of sipping champagne at cocktail parties.

To put it in a nutshell: the more time Nathaniel spent away from Kitty playing the role of 'the deputy of the deputy', the more he got enamoured with power.

On Valentine's Day he graciously instructed Ugli to fly to Fenny Bridges with a bouquet of a hundred red roses, and I was delighted to see the expression on the kid's face upon spotting Ugli returning with a hundred battered-looking roses and saying that the mistress had not wished to keep them and suggested that John give them to that tramp Jane Farrar. Apparently pregnancy hadn't dampened Kitty's spunk a bit. I really liked the girl. I began secretly hoping that she'd come to her senses and escape from the village before giving birth and bring up her child in peace somewhere far, far away from Nathaniel. It would have been better for her, better for the baby, only Nat would have probably suffered from it. (The latter thought made me feel rather cheerful).

o o o O O O o o o

It wasn't true that Nathaniel wasn't missing Kitty. He was. He loved her, and her sending him the roses back felt like a slap in the face. He simply couldn't fathom why she didn't understand how important it was for him to stay in London at the moment. She didn't understand that he was doing it for her! Or, at least partly for her.

He sighed as his glance fell upon the photo of Kitty on his worktable. She was smiling at him from the small, round silver frame, creating a fluttery feeling in his stomach. He really missed her – it was the second half of March and he hadn't even heard her voice for two weeks. But he had tasks here. He couldn't afford to leave for the weekend, or for just one day. He was a Very Important Person. And Very Important Persons didn't have much free time. Kitty surely would understand and forgive him later. She loved him, after all.

Sighing, he looked away from her photo to reach for a stack of documents when the door of his office opened and Jane Farrar pirouetted in.

"Good morning, Mr Mandrake," she said in a carefree voice. "Malbindi gave me these papers when we met on the corridor and asked me to give them to you." Seeing his frown, she quickly added: "I'm just delivering these. I'm not staying to try to _seduce_ you or anything, don't worry about that."

"I'm not worried," he grunted, taking the papers from her. At that moment his mobile phone rang.

"Well, good-bye, Mr Mandrake," Jane said and started walking towards the door.

Nathaniel saw Kitty's name on the screen of his mobile phone. He didn't have the slightest idea why she was calling him early in the afternoon when she usually called him in the evening, _if_ she called at all. After Valentine's Day they had barely talked at all. "Yes, Kitty?"

"John," she said weakly, "it's time."

"Time? For what?"

"The baby. She's coming."

Nathaniel blanched. "But… but… isn't it too early?"

"Three weeks early," she replied, her voice wavering. "Just thought I'd let you know. I don't expect you to be here, as you're such an _important person_ and _so busy_. I'll phone you as soon as she's popped out. I've just sent Enid for the doctor. I'm fine, no need to feel worried or anything. Talk to you later."

"Wait, Kitty!" Nathaniel exclaimed. "I'm… I'm coming!"

"What, don't they need you in London?" She asked sarcastically.

"Nothing can be as important as this!"

"Really? Recently it seemed to me that it wasn't a bit important to you… Ahhh…"

"Kitty, are you all right?" he shouted into the telephone.

She wheezed for a few seconds, then said: "Yeah. Suppose so. And no need to shout. I'm just in labour, not deaf."

"Hold on, Kitty," Nathaniel said, not even noticing that his door closed with a soft click. "Hold on, and take deep breathes. I'll be there as quick as I can. Love you."

A few seconds of silence ensued, then she replied: "I love you too. Hurry."

o o o O O O o o o

I materialised in a pentacle in my feathered serpent form. In front of me, Jane Farrar looked very excited about something.

"She's gone into labour!" she announced happily.

"Huh?" I asked politely.

"Kitty Jones!"

"Oh. Isn't that a bit early?"

"Apparently it is," she said.

"And how do you know at all?" I flapped my wings a bit.

"I heard John… _Nathaniel _talk to her excitedly over the phone. I didn't hear what she was saying, but I heard him ramble about 'too early' and 'I'm coming, hold on', etcetera, etcetera. Actually, this early birth comes in handy for me – much better than if the baby were born after 26th March…"

I had no idea what she was talking about, but decided not to question her. She wouldn't tell either way.

"I want you to go with him to the village, then appear in my home as soon as the baby's born and you've heard its name. Then, Bartimaeus, I will dismiss you."

"Really?" I jumped in surprise. Did she truly intend to keep her promise and set me free? Every cell in my serpent body tingled with excitement. I wanted to leave this bloody place at last! I had served this infernal woman for almost nine months!

"Really." She nodded. "And now, go."

I went. Happily.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel arrived in Fenny Bridges at eight p.m. He entered the house to find his mother coming out of the bathroom with a basin of hot water.

"How is she?" he blurted out.

"Not well. The contractions are coming every three minutes now," Esther replied grimly. He had never seen her looking so haggard.

"Are you assisting the doctor?"

She shook her head. "The doctor turns out to have broken his leg last week and is currently in hospital in Exeter. I'm playing the midwife."

"But… but… you could have called an ambulance from Exeter or something…"

"If we had done so and Kitty had been taken into hospital, they would have asked for her papers," his mother said darkly.

"Oh," he breathed. "I hadn't thought of that."

"But Kitty had. She said she couldn't risk anyone finding out that she's giving birth to a Minister's child… you might lose your job." Esther gave her son a piercing look. "You have neglected the poor girl for months, and she's still defending your honour. I hope you know you don't deserve her sacrifice, her love."

Nathaniel opened his mouth, but couldn't think of any proper answer, so he rather turned away from her and hurried into the bedroom.

"Kitty!" He dropped himself on his knees next to her and grabbed her hand.

"Nathaniel…" She gave him a weak smile. "You've come… you've really come…"

"Of course I've come! How could I have left you alone now?"

She shook her head. "I weren't alone. Your mum is here and so is Enid. They're really helpf… ohhh…"

Nathaniel clenched his teeth as Kitty squeezed his hand in pain. Seeing her suffer like this, he caught himself wishing he weren't a magician – they could have taken Kitty into a hospital then where she would have been given professional medical aid. At that moment he felt ashamed of his selfishness. If he hadn't held on to his magician status so tightly, Kitty could have been given every comfort during her pregnancy and labour. But his status had been more important…

Kitty let out an ear-splitting scream, and Nathaniel felt his mother pulling him away from his wife. He staggered to the back of the room, his eyes never leaving Kitty's tormented face. Without even noticing that his lips had silently started to move, he began reciting something he'd heard from Mrs Underwood a few times. "_Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…_"

o o o O O O o o o

I must admit I was almost enjoying seeing the kid so frightened. Of course, his fright could be put down to Kitty's terrible condition, and that was something I wasn't a bit happy about. But if I had seen him this scared-to-death because of something else, I would have been delighted about it.

I perched on the top of the wardrobe as a spider, watching as Esther and Enid busied themselves around Kitty. Nat was leaning against the wall, his face as white as a sheet. I thought he was close to fainting. He belonged to those people who couldn't bear to look at disgusting things. Why, just remember how he'd reacted to Harlequin's bladder-candle in Prague… Apparently he couldn't stand the sight of blood either. I naturally could – I had fought in several battles before and seen enough of it to not be sick.

Finally, sometime around ten, the baby was born. You should have seen the look on Nat's face! He looked as pale, sweaty and relieved as though it had been him giving birth, not Kitty.

Enid washed the baby in the basin while Esther cleaned up Kitty. The young mother fell asleep within a few minutes, even before she could have taken her daughter into her arms. She was horribly tired, the poor thing.

Nat sat on the bed next to her and wiped her sweaty locks out of her face, gently caressing her cheek. "You've done it, Kitty. You were wonderful." He kissed her on the forehead, and I thought I'd seen a smile on her face, even though I doubted if she had heard him at all.

o o o O O O o o o

"Let's go out and let her sleep," Esther suggested, cradling the newborn child in her arms. Nathaniel nodded, following her out of the room, giving his wife one last glance before he shut the door. His heart clenched at the sight – she was deadly pale, there were shadows under her eyes, and for the first time since he'd known her, she looked week and fragile.

"She'll be all right," his mother said quietly, seeing the concern on his face.

"I hope she will," he muttered, sinking onto the sofa. "I don't know what I'd do without her…"

"Don't worry, Nathaniel," Esther said with a smile. "It was a fairly easy birth."

"Easy? That seemed _easy _to you?"

Esther shrugged. "I've seen worse. And Kitty's a strong girl. She'll be all right in three-four days."

"What if not? What if she contracts some infection now that her body is so weakened and… dies?" he whispered. "Probably I should take her back to London. If anything goes wrong, I could take her to a hospital-"

"And let the doctors know that a magician's wife has just given birth?" The woman raised an eyebrow at him.

"I could take her to a private clinic, where the doctors are… corruptible. For money they'd keep their mouths shut."

"You should have thought of this earlier, you know," she pointed out.

"I was thinking of something like this, but the baby came early," he replied with an innocent look. "It's not my fault."

"But it _is_ your fault that you sent your pregnant wife to the back of beyond, risking both her and the baby!"

The baby in her arms whimpered and she looked down at the little one lovingly, forgetting that she was supposed to be angry with her son. "She doesn't even have a name yet."

Nathaniel shrugged. "I haven't talked about names with Kitty. We both know that once our daughter becomes a magician apprentice, she will need to forget her old name, and will get a new one. So… we just didn't bother with thinking of names."

"But my granddaughter _needs_ to have a name for the first five years of her life," Esther pointed out.

"Well, her surname should be Jones, after her mother, as though she were illegitimate. After all, from a certain point of view, she is. As for the given name…" Nathaniel made a contemplative expression. He was in trouble – he didn't know any female names he actually liked. Besides Kitty, of course. He cast around for names, thinking of the very few females he had known. Then, as quick as a lightning, the brainwave came. A gentle smile spread on his face. "Martha. Her name shall be Martha."

"Judging by your smile, you have known a Martha," his mother remarked. "I hope it wasn't an earlier girlfriend of yours…"

Nathaniel let out a small laugh. "No, she was my… almost-mother." Seeing the woman shudder, he continued: "She was the wife of my first master. She cared for me. I could say she loved me…"

Esther looked away, and seeing her lips tremble, he knew she was on the verge of tears. Before he knew what he was doing, he stood up, walked over to her and sat down next to her. "I know you would have given me all the love that I got from her, if you had had a chance."

She looked up at him, her eyes watering. "You do?"

He put an arm around her shoulder. "Yes, I do."

"A… aren't you mad at me any longer?"

Nathaniel gave her a sad smile. "No, I'm not… Mother."

Tears were now freely flowing down her cheeks, onto the baby's face. "Oh, look, I'm soaking your daughter… You'd better take her from me."

"Me?" His eyes widened. "No… I'd just… break her or something."

Esther chuckled. "Break her? Babies are not porcelain vases, Nathaniel." With that, she gently but determinedly pushed Martha into her father's arms.

Nathaniel couldn't find words for what he was feeling. This tiny girl was so soft, so sensitive, and so dependent on him at the moment. "A…are they all this wrinkly?"

"Most of them, yes."

Nathaniel just stared and stared at his daughter, not being able to take his eyes off her. She was ugly and beautiful at the same time. Black hair framed her wrinkly little face, and her tiny lips were moving, as though she were sucking an invisible breast. No doubt, she'd become a real beauty when she grew up. Nathaniel caught himself imagining a young woman with Kitty's face and his own blue eyes… His heart filled with warmth and joy so much that he thought it was simply too much to take. He wasn't used to getting 'emotional floods' like this… It made him feel awkward.

His mobile phone rang. The baby began crying. Almost relieved to be able to put Martha down and stop his 'emotional flood', Nathaniel pushed her back into his mother's arms and hurried out of the building.

"What is it, Ffoukes?" he asked, shivering in the cold night air.

"At last, John! I've been looking for you for hours, even visited your house, but your foliot didn't know where you were!"

"I… I had to leave London. Why, what happened?"

"Remember Maggie Watson?"

"Yes. We sent a search sphere after her in July."

"Exactly," Ffoukes said, his voice sounding excited. "One of our men has been watching her through the sphere ever since, and guess what happened today evening?"

"What?"

"She returned to London and is currently at a building that we suspect might be the Resistance Headquarters."

"Oh."

"'Oh?' Is that all you can say? Boss, it's your big chance to round up the Resistance! We beat the Americans, caught most Yankee terrorists lurking in London, we're almost on the top, and the only step we've got to make to get there is to put the Resistance behind bars!"

"Y…yes. You're right. Do we have enough men?"

"I have gathered fifty. They're all standing here, waiting for your order."

Nathaniel glanced back at the house and felt a pang of remorse. _Kitty._ What would Kitty say if he sent the whole Resistance into the Tower?

"John, are you still there?"

"Yes…"

"Good. Before I forget: Weatherby had his third heart attack this afternoon. He's dead."

Nathaniel's heart began beating faster. The Deputy Prime Minister was dead! Deveraux surely wanted him to be his new deputy, but if he missed the chance to do away with the Resistance, he might miss his chance for promotion as well. And, if he put those miscreants behind bars, Deveraux would surely be grateful enough to him to offer him Weatherby's place right away…

Ffoukes was right, this was his great chance. Kitty would understand. She's very understanding…

"You've got my orders, Ffoukes. Send your people after them and catch everyone you can. I'll be back in London as soon as possible."

o o o O O O o o o

I appeared in the Tramp's room in the form of a baby. I know, it's kind of a cheap trick, mostly used by imps, but hey, I wasn't impersonating a random baby, I was impersonating Nat and Kitty's – just for the effect, you know. "Okay, the information you wanted to know: this," I pointed with my tiny hands at myself, "was born half an hour ago and named Martha Jones by Nat himself."

My mistress wrinkled her nose. "Is his kid really this ugly?"

"Ugly?" the baby made an angry face. "I'm beautiful! As beautiful as a newborn baby can be, that is. Of course, I doubt if you have seen a newborn baby close up… you magicians always wait for the kids to be five before you take them as your apprentices, to make sure you don't have to dirty your hands with nappies or spend your time with potty-training… Eh. You think you're too distinguished for that, huh?"

"I'm not interested in your views of magician society," the Tramp snapped. "Move into the pentacle."

My insides squirmed gleefully and I almost peed on the Tramp's carpet in excitement. (I was a baby, after all… anyone could have forgiven me for that… well, perhaps not the Tramp.) "I hope we're not going to see each other any time soon," I said jovially. "Try and not to summon me ever again, if possible."

She scowled at me, stepping into her own pentacle. "Don't worry, Bartimaeus. I don't intend to summon you ever again. I've had enough of your cheek."

"Don't say it wasn't entertaining once in a while," I said, changing into my Ptolemy form, sending her a wide grin.

"Oh, shut your mouth at least once," she grunted. "I'm trying to concentrate on the dismissing spell."

"Oh, goodie. I'll shut up." And I did. She said the words, and I felt my ties to this world weakening. For a second Nathaniel, Kitty, Nat's mum and little Martha came into my mind. I felt a pang of remorse, but it was gone as soon as I left this world. I was free at last and hoped I'd never have to see Jane or Nat again.

o O o

**A/N: kindly tell me your opinion :)**

**Also, I've recently started posting a new (almost) novel-length Superman fanfic on ffnet. If you liked Harry's amnesia in _The Greatest Scandal in Hogwarts History_, if you liked the jungle adventures in _The Aztec Incident_, and if you simply like my writing style, then you'll like this story too. So go read it and review:D**


	18. The Rich and Lonely

**A/N: this chapter is dedicated to _XxBlackChaosxX_, who posted the 500th review :)**

**There's an illo for this chapter in my ffnet profile.**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to _Musica Diabolos, annatari.the.writer, Queen Dragon, Aiko Moonchild, fikle friend, Fredryck, Phoenix, Rose Fae, Rekhyt, uptowngirl48, Hello, Mewhoelse, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, __ailiricxxz_**

**I feel the need to answer to PINKADELIC, as she wasn't signed in and didn't give her email addy either. Please, dear PINKADELIC (and everyone else who might write me comments like she did), next time read the author's notes at the beginning of a fanfic. In the A/N of chapter 1, I stated very clearly that English wasn't my native language. I learned it at school and nowhere else. My British beta corrected my grammar, but he couldn't correct my style, obviously. So, it is quite natural that my writing style in English isn't perfect. Trust me, I could write stories in Hungarian much more eloquently, but I chose to write in English, as all the Hungarian fanfic sites are Harry Potter-oriented with no other section to post stories in. **

**Chapter 18**

**The Rich and Lonely**

Nathaniel entered the house. "I've got to leave for London," he announced.

"What?" His mother frowned, gently rocking the baby. "Why?"

"No time to explain that now," he replied. "Look, I'm really sorry… What should I do with Kitty now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm worried about her condition. Perhaps in London-"

"I don't think you should try to take her with you now. Her condition seems to have stabilised, but if she were moved now, she might start to bleed again." Esther shook her head. "Don't worry about her. She's doing well enough. If you really have to leave now, then I suggest you return for her within a week. _If_ you have time to return at all," she added in a slightly sarcastic voice.

Nathaniel bit into his lower lip. "I don't know when I'll have time to come and fetch her. But I'll try to come as soon as possible… I don't think it's a good idea to leave her here long. I don't want her to develop too strong an attachment to the child."

Esther gave him a look of disbelief. "Too strong an attachment? What are you talking about, Son? She's Martha's mother! Every mother develops a strong attachment to her child even before it's born!"

"Still, I don't want it to be even stronger," he replied. "It might sound evil, but it's just rational thinking. Kitty would suffer more for five whole years if she spent weeks with Martha now. I'll come for her as soon as possible… in her own interest." With that he entered the bedroom to check on his wife once more before he left. She was sleeping peacefully; her long, black hair lay as a sweaty, tangled mass on the pillows.

Nathaniel sat down next to her and took her hand into his. "I don't know whether you can hear me or not… I have to leave, Kitty. Rest and heal quickly, and I'll come for you soon. I love you." He gently kissed her on the lips, then stood up. "Enid, take good care of her."

"I will, master." The female foliot curtsied.

Nathaniel left the room. In the hall he found his mother glaring at him. "I don't like this look."

"I don't like you leaving," she said sharply.

"It's _important_," he sighed.

"More important than your wife and daughter?"

He resisted an urge to roll his eyes. "I don't have time for discussions like that. Please, Mother, let me make my own choices and without stirring up pangs of guilt in me."

"So, you do have pangs of guilt."

"Would it help if I admitted I did?" He turned on his heels, heading for the door. He'd already put his hand on the handle when something made him double back. "I'd gladly stay if I could. But I can't. Please, take care of Kitty, Mother. Believe it or not, I love her."

He stepped out, the door closed behind him with a click, and Esther stood there, a whimpering baby in her arms. "_Kitty_ you might love… but what about your daughter?" She glanced down at the little girl and her heart clenched. Nathaniel hadn't wanted to hold his daughter, he'd seemed relieved to be able to give her back to his mother, and now as he left, he hadn't even given the baby a second glance.

o o o O O O o o o

"Where… where's Nathaniel?" Kitty croaked. It was dawn and the birds were making a racket outside.

"Hush, child, don't tire yourself," Esther said gently.

"Where is he?" Kitty demanded, her voice a little stronger this time.

The older woman heaved a sigh. "He got an urgent call from London and had to leave."

"He left?" Kitty's voice wavered. "Why… why did he have to leave? Did he say?"

Esther shook her head. "He only said it was very important."

A sad smile appeared on Kitty's face. "Important. Of course. Why am I surprised at all? I… I've known it all along… that I would always came second after his career. I don't… don't even know why it's still hurting me…" She looked away, tears flowing down her cheeks. "I should have got used to it by now… I should have…"

"Don't cry, dear. He doesn't deserve your tears."

Kitty looked at Esther. "How… how can you talk like that? He's… your son!"

"And a politician," the older woman sighed. "But let's not talk about him now, shall we? Don't you want to see your daughter?"

Kitty's face lit up. "Of course I do! Please, bring her here."

Esther helped her sit up a bit, propping some pillows behind her back, then hurried out and returned with the baby in a minute. Kitty seemed to melt as soon as the little one was placed into her arms. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Very." The older woman nodded. "Looks just like Nathaniel did when he was born."

"What, was he this wrinkly too?" Kitty grinned.

"Even more so." Esther grinned back.

"Hello, sweetie…" Kitty pressed a kiss on the top of the baby's head. "You're so pretty, baby mine. But I can't keep calling you 'sweetie' and 'baby', huh? You need to have a name."

"Actually, she already has one," Esther said. "Nathaniel said you two hadn't talked about baby names but he liked the name Martha. Of course, if you don't like it, you can still talk it over with him when he returns for you."

"I do like it. _Martha._ Such a… dignified name, isn't it? Perhaps… a little too dignified for a newborn baby… I'll just call you Mar. Do you like it, sweetie?" The baby grabbed the hem of Kitty's nightshirt with a tiny hand. "Well, she doesn't seem to have any objections, does she?" For a while Kitty just stared at her daughter, marvelling at every little move she made. This was their miracle, hers and Nathaniel's – a miracle for sure, created despite the contraceptive shield. If only he were here, sharing her joy. But no, he had had to leave for London, presumably to round up more American spies and be even more popular than he already was.

Kitty shook her head. She wouldn't let sad thoughts ruin her happiness. For the time being she just wanted to be a happy, proud mother. And no power on earth could stop her, not even her egoistic husband.

o o o O O O o o o

"…_in today's news: the British terrorist group known as the Resistance is eliminated, Minister of Internal Affairs John Mandrake is promoted to Deputy Prime Minister, and hurricane Juana levels houses in Florida_…"

Esther froze. Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried out of the kitchen, into the living room where the small television had just started showing the midday newscast.

"_Prime Minister Rupert Deveraux today announced that the Department of Internal Affairs has successfully captured and imprisoned most members of the Resistance, the dangerous terrorist group that has been working against the magician leadership for years. It is believed that only a few, less than five Resistance members, those who were not at their headquarters last night, are still at large. The Department of Internal Affairs is set on rounding them up as soon as possible. For the time being they're satisfied with the results of last night's raid: they have managed to capture 47 terrorists, with only five casualties: one policeman and four Resistance members. Minister of Internal Affairs, John Mandrake was asked about the raid-"_

Esther's heart clenched as her son's face appeared on the screen.

"_The loss is most regrettable_," the young man said impassively, "_especially because two of the dead were children of fourteen years, but they have brought it upon themselves – they shouldn't have joined the Resistance in the first place."_

Nathaniel's face got replaced by the news reader's. "_As announced last night, Deputy Prime Minister Harold Weatherby died yesterday afternoon after a short illness, and following last night's brilliant raid, John Mandrake has been offered Weatherby's position, which he accepted at once."_

Again Nathaniel's face filled the screen. "_I feel most honoured by Mr Deveraux's gracious offer and I will do everything in my power to live up to his expectations. For the time being I shall stay in charge of the Department of Internal Affairs, but will naturally do my duties as Deputy PM as well. It will also be my task and pleasure to advise on my successor."_

"_Thank you, Depute Prime Minister. And now, about the hurricane in the Americas…"_

Esther heaved a sigh. She didn't remember when she'd last felt so horrible. She knew she was supposed to be proud of her son, but couldn't help feeling disgusted by the whole thing.

"Esther?" Kitty's voice called from the bedroom.

The woman forced a smile on her face and entered. "Awake at last! How're you feeling, dear?"

"Much better," Kitty smiled, suppressing a yawn. "I'll be all right in few days, then…" Her smile vanished from her face. "When do you think Nathaniel will return to take me back to London… away from my baby?" She glanced at the little one sleeping next to her.

"I don't know." Esther shook her head. She didn't feel like telling Kitty that her son wanted to tear mother and child apart as soon as possible. Besides, now that he was Deputy Prime Minister, he'd surely have much more work to do and wouldn't have time to come back for Kitty any time soon…

"Are you all right? You look funny," Kitty observed.

"Everything's fine, dear." Esther smiled. "I'm just a bit tired." It was better for Kitty not to find out about Nathaniel's promotion just yet, and especially about the elimination of the Resistance. Esther knew well enough that Kitty had been one of its members once, she'd told her funny and exciting stories about her Resistance-years. No, she definitely wasn't ready yet to hear such shocking news. "Looks like the little princess is starting to awaken…"

Indeed, the baby began squirming next to Kitty, and in a few seconds, she was bawling at the top of her lungs. Kitty took her into her arms and smelled her. "She doesn't need a new nappy… at least I think she doesn't."

"She must be hungry," Esther said with a smile. "She's been nearly four hours without a feed."

"Oh. I still haven't got the knack of nursing a baby…" Kitty shook her head, laughing. "I'm sure I'm going to be a horrible mother."

"You're going to be a wonderful mother," the older woman said. _If my son lets you, that is_, she thought dejectedly.

o o o O O O o o o

"Me?" Ffoukes said with a surprised expression.

"Yes, you." Nathaniel nodded. "I can't think of anyone better for the position of Minister of Internal Affairs, my friend. I shall talk to Deveraux about your appointment as he has to give his consent, but don't worry – he'll accept you. I can be really persuasive if I want to."

"I don't know how to-"

Nathaniel waved. "Don't thank me. You deserve it. You've served the Empire excellently for years."

"As have you. I told you months and months ago that you'd get Weatherby's place." Ffoukes grinned at the younger man. "I'm proud of you, John. I'm sure your wife will be really proud too."

Nathaniel flinched. He doubted Kitty would be proud of him at all. She had once asked him to use his powers for good, but would she consider shutting the whole Resistance into the Tower a good thing? She surely wouldn't. She had also said she didn't like the idea of him getting even more powerful than he already was because power corrupted people. _But I'm not corrupted… am I?_ He sighed. _Who am I kidding? I'm just as corrupted as the rest. If not more._

"Are you all right, John?"

Nathaniel shuddered. "Yes. Just… Kitty. I don't think she'll be happy about this."

"What, your promotion?"

"No. The Resistance. Remember, she used to be one of them. I've sent her friends into the Tower." He looked away from Ffoukes. "But I had no other choice… did I?"

"No, you didn't." The older man put a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. "You did the right thing. You did it for your homeland. For peace and safety. The fact that it earned you a promotion is just… Well, the point is that you shouldn't blame yourself."

Nathaniel nodded. "You're right, Ffoukes. I'm not blaming myself. But Kitty _will_ blame me."

"She will understand. It might take her some time, but… she will. Sooner or later. How is she, by the way? I hope she's doing better."

"Yes, much better. In fact, I'm thinking of bringing her back to London within a few days. Deveraux is giving a party next week in my honour. Kitty has to be there."

o o o O O O o o o

"Nathaniel, what a nice surprise! I wasn't expecting you so soon!" Kitty flung herself into his arms. Just five days had passed since the birth, but she looked as strong as ever – her face was no longer pale but had a healthy rosy tinge. "Happy birthday, love!" She pressed her lips to his.

Nathaniel felt overwhelmed by her kisses. He hadn't been expecting a warm welcome like this – not after the raid. "You knew it was my birthday?"

"Of course I did, your mother told me," she said brightly. "Funny how close your birthday is to Martha, isn't it? Just five days. It will be easy to remember: we celebrate hers on 21st March, yours on 26th. We could even celebrate them together. Of course, only when she's living at our place already. Or is it forbidden to celebrate a magician apprentice's birthday?"

"Er… I don't know. The Underwoods never celebrated mine… I doubt if they even knew when I was born. I remembered it, though. It was one of the very few things I didn't forget from my childhood…"

A baby cry came from the bedroom. "Mar's awake! Come, have a look at her! She's getting prettier every day." She turned around and hurried for the bedroom.

Nathaniel didn't budge from the door. "Wait, Kitty."

She doubled back. "What?"

He heaved a sigh. "I'm here to take you back to London… and to take the child to the orphanage."

"So soon?" she breathed.

"You knew it was coming. We have talked about this several times."

She shook her head. "I know, but… couldn't it wait for a few more weeks?"

"No."

"Nathaniel…"

"Don't. Kitty, I know I might sound cruel, but… I'm doing this for you. And for Martha. She'll be safe with Mother, and you will suffer less if you return to London with me now."

Tears welled up in her eyes. She had known it was coming, yes, but now that it was here, she couldn't believe it. "Can I visit her… once in a while?"

"I don't think it would be a good idea. Once I have taken you back to London and announced you had been cured of your illness, the ministers could get suspicious if my wife disappeared from time to time and I had to go to social gatherings alone."

"Why would they bother whether I was there for cocktail parties or not?" Kitty frowned. "I'm just a minister's wife, one of… how many? Around three hundred?"

"You're not just a minister's wife," he said seriously. "I'm not _just a minister_ anymore."

She blinked. "What… what do you mean?"

"You don't know? Haven't you watched the news?"

"No." She shrugged. "I've been too busy recuperating and tending my daughter… why, what happened?"

"I've been promoted to Deveraux's deputy."

Kitty's eyes narrowed. "So, you've reached your goal. I hope you're happy now."

Nathaniel bit into his lower lip. "This isn't everything. I… I was hoping you'd know about it by the time we met… it would have been so much easier…"

"Easier?"

"Yes." He ran a hand nervously across his hair. "You could have welcomed me with a punch or something, but it still would have been better than…"

"A punch?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Why would I want to punch you? What did you do?"

He gulped and stared at the floor.

"Nathaniel… don't do this to me." She stepped closer. "What did you do?"

Slowly, he looked up to meet her eyes. She was appalled to see fright in his eyes. She had seen him happy, angry, over-confident, but never this frightened. Was he afraid of her?

"We've found the Resistance headquarters," he muttered. "The Resistance is no more, Kitty."

Suddenly she turned as pale as she had been after having given birth. "What happened to them?" she whispered.

"M… most of them are in the Tower now."

"Most?" she said sharply.

"Four are dead."

She let out a gasp. "Who? Who are those?"

"I don't know their names… but two of them were children." Nathaniel cast his eyes down, as though very interested in his shoes.

"Children?" She stepped away from him. "Is this why you got promoted?"

"Partly," he replied, still not meeting her eyes. "The raid took place a few hours after Weatherby's death."

"Well… congratulations, Deputy Prime Minister. You must be very proud of yourself."

"Kitty, I-"

She held up a hand. "Don't. Don't say anything. It was enough. And for your information… I don't want to punch you. I punch people who I think still have a chance to mend their ways. You have long lost yours… I've just been too blind to see it." She turned on her heels and headed for the bedroom's door. "I'm going to prepare my daughter and you can take her to the orphanage. Then you can take me back to London to show me off at parties. Whatever you want, Deputy Prime Minister. Whatever you want, except one thing: from this day on, my bedroom door will be closed to you. You can have as many whores as you want, but me, you won't get ever again." With that she entered the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Nathaniel stared at the closed door, feeling paralysed. He had expected her to shout at him, to kick him or beat him in any way, but this calm coldness was worse than anything.

o o o O O O o o o

Esther opened the door of the orphanage to see her son holding the baby, looking pale and lost. He reminded her so much of the child she had had to give away – he wore the same scared, haunted expression he had worn when she and her husband had taken him to Whitehall and told him to stay there, be a good little boy and obey the magicians.

"Mother," he breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

"Come in, Son."

As soon as he entered, he pushed the baby into her arms. "Take care of her, Mother."

She gave him a sad smile. "Don't worry, I will."

He nodded, chewing his lower lip. "I… I'll send the orphanage monthly donations. Enough to pay the bills, renovate the house and buy the kids everything they need."

"That's really… generous of you, Deputy Prime Minister," she said, her voice sounding sarcastic.

He decided to pretend he hadn't noticed her sarcasm. "Listen, besides these monthly donations, I can't send you anything else. I can't keep it touch with you, and neither will Kitty. I don't want anyone to start suspecting things…"

"Understandable," she muttered. "You'd be risking your new position."

A lump rose in his throat, but swallowed to make it disappear. "I'm sorry I won't be seeing you for a long time, Mother. But it's the best for all of us. I'll come for her in exactly five years, on my birthday."

"I'll be waiting for you, Son." She nodded.

Tentatively, he stepped closer and gathered her into his arms, careful not to crush the baby. "Good bye, Mother."

"Good bye, Son."

The door closed behind him, and a sob escaped her lips. The baby must have felt her grandmother's sadness, because she started crying too. "Shhh, it's okay, dear," Esther cooed, gently rocking her. "I'm here for you. I'll always be there for you, Martha. Always. And let's hope that your idiot of a father too will be there for you later. Hmm… I think the young lady needs a clean nappy…"

o o o O O O o o o

As she had promised, Kitty went with Nathaniel to parties, wore the diamond-ruby necklace to make the rest of the ladies turn green with envy, and gave forced smiles to everyone who congratulated her on having such a talented, successful husband. But inside, she was dying a bit every day. Anger such as she'd never known before kept churning in her soul, but she suppressed it, bottled it up, not giving it an outlet.

Month after month passed by, and she didn't talk more to her husband than absolutely necessary. She saw that he too was suffering, but she decided to pretend that she hadn't noticed.

He spent as much time away from home as possible, and after a while they barely met outside the parties they were invited to.

'Having problems with John, dear?' Jane Farrar had once asked her at a party held in Ffoukes's house to celebrate his appointment as Minister of Internal Affairs.

'No, why?' Kitty had asked.

'Don't try to fool me, dear,' Jane had said with a sweet smile. 'I have eyes to see. Every time you appear on John's arms, you seem so tense and you always grab the first opportunity to sidle away from him. Admit it, you two aren't getting along these days.'

Kitty had given the other woman a cold smile. 'If you're wondering whether he's free for you to seduce again, then yes, he is. You can shag him whenever you want, wherever you want. I expect he'd be grateful to you, because he's not getting any from me ever again.'

Jane had made a grimace. 'No thanks. I've given up on him a while ago. I don't need a man who loves another. And you too love him, admit it.'

'Would it help if I did?' Kitty had asked, casually sipping her rum punch.

'Yes. The mere knowledge that you two love each other and are still not happy together is somehow… uplifting.' Miss Farrar had given Kitty a nasty smile and left to get herself a drink.

o o o O O O o o o

After a year, Kitty's anger had somewhat subsided, but she held firmly onto her decision of not getting any closer to Nathaniel. She longed for his closeness, longed for his kisses, and suspected that he must have been feeling the same way, but every night she was on the verge of jumping out of her own bed and running into his, she forced herself to think of the two boys who had died aged only fourteen the night she had given birth, and that was enough for her to hold back.

She missed her daughter terribly too, but Nathaniel had forbidden her not only to visit the baby but to send Esther letters as well. 'My ill-wishers might catch the letters,' he had reasoned. 'We can't risk that.'

'I can somehow understand that you don't want me to exchange letters with Esther, but… aren't you interested in your own mother enough to know how she's doing?' Kitty had replied. Seeing his sour expression, she had added: 'Oh, I see. You are, but you don't want to risk your position. Why am I surprised at all? I shouldn't have been so naive to think you'd want to keep in contact with her and hear about her and our child. Minister Mandrake has no time for such petty things as family. He's thinking bigger than that.'

'Kitty, please…'

But she had turned on her heels and left him, and hadn't ever mentioned his mother or their child to him again.

o o o O O O o o o

Year after year went by, and John Mandrake was more and more praised by Deveraux and more and more envied by the rest of the ministers. He was richer than ever, and lonelier than ever. Soon several female magicians noticed that his relationship to his wife had changed for the worse, and quite a few of them tried to win his attention, but he politely declined every indecent proposal.

To take his mind off Kitty and their ruined marriage, he decided to try to seek satisfaction in his work. At the very beginning of their relationship, he had once tried to be a workaholic so as not to think of Kitty. Now he worked twice as much as he had then. He lost several kilos, his face became hollow and his eyes lost their youthful glint. His long hair hid most of his pale face, giving him a more haggard look than ever.

Kitty too seemed to have lost her spark. Besides going to parties with him, she stayed at home and spent her time reading everything in Nathaniel's personal library – everything that he hadn't shut away from her, that is.

One evening she was on her way back to her room from the library when she passed before Nathaniel's door. She heard a female voice coming from inside.

Her heart plummeted. So, he was cheating on her after all._ Why, what were you expecting? That he'd remain faithful to you for the rest of his life?_

The door to his bedroom opened and he frowned at her. "I heard a thump. What happened?"

"I just… dropped my books." She quickly bent down to retrieve them. "Who were you talking to?"

Nathaniel leaned against the doorframe. "Just my succubus."

"Your… what?"

"Well, you know… succubi are-"

"I know what succubi are!" she snapped. "I hope you were having fun with her."

He made a grimace. "I haven't been _shagging_ her, if that's what you're wondering."

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't even want to know what you made her do, then."

"Why, what were you expecting?" He asked, his voice rising in pitch. "You've denied it to me for almost five years now! I'm a man with certain… needs!"

"Oh, and you think _I_ don't have needs?" she retorted.

His features softened and he made a step towards her. "Come back to me, Kitty."

"If you let them out of the Tower. Or at least the children," she replied darkly.

"You know I can't."

"You could with Jeremy."

"That was different. Everything had been different then. I wasn't Deputy Prime Minister. But now, I'd be risking my position and honour if I let only one of them out."

She gave him a withering look. "So, when the Empire was still in great shit, you were willing to play the good boy. Now that the Empire's again ruling the world and everyone's afraid of it, you no longer need to make concessions." Her eyes were blazing with fury and she held onto her books so tight she was almost crushing them. "America is again yours, the Resistance no longer exists, so you don't need any more PR, eh? Now you can show your true colours! I'm disgusted by you, John. I'll never go back to you. You hear me? Never! The only reason I'm still here is Martha. I've lost you to politics… I don't intend to lose her to anyone or anything."

Nathaniel stared at her for a few seconds, looking guilty. "But you love me. You still love me."

Kitty shook her head. "I loved _Nathaniel_. You are _John Mandrake_."

o o o O O O o o o

On the 26th March, Nathaniel was driving towards Fenny Bridges, his heart full of excitement, doubt and hope. He was excited at the prospect of seeing his mother after all these years, he was doubtful about bringing a child into his home (he didn't have the slightest idea how to treat children) and he was hopeful that as soon as he gave Martha back to her mother, Kitty would forgive him. Perhaps not for everything, but for many things. Today could be a new beginning for the two of them; they could start a new life as a family (as an _almost_-family, that is – the child wasn't supposed to find out they were her parents, after all).

The closer he got to the village, the quicker his heart was beating. What could his daughter look like? – he wondered. Did she look like Kitty, or did she take after him? Was she snappish like her mother or aloof like him? Was she so… childish like the average five-year-old?

Nathaniel shuddered at the thought of a 'childish child'. He didn't think he'd ever been childish. He hadn't been given a chance to be. Surely, in his first five years he must have been behaving like a normal child, but as soon as he got into Arthur Underwood's house, he lost his childhood. His time was taken up with lessons and even in the very little free time he had, he read books to satisfy his thirst for knowledge. But did he have a right to make his daughter's life be like this? Did he have a right to take her childhood from her just as his had been taken from him? What if she didn't want to be a magician at all? What if she loathed him as much as he'd loathed Underwood?

The Ford Fiesta stopped before the orphanage, and Nathaniel hesitated for a few minutes to get out of the car. _Kitty wants it_, he reminded himself. _She will look at me differently if I deliver her the child._

Screwing up his courage, he got out of the car and walked to the door. He saw that the knocker had been replaced by a decent bell, and even the walls seemed to have been repainted. Nathaniel allowed himself a small smile as he rang the bell. His donations had been used well.

"Nathaniel?" His mother opened the door and her eyes widened at his sight. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I've come for Martha," he said. "Did you forget it was my 25th birthday?"

The woman frowned. "Of course not, but…"

"But what?" He knitted his eyebrows. He didn't like the look on her face.

Esther gulped. "The child is no longer here."

"What?"

"I thought you had sent that man for her…"

Nathaniel shook his head. "What man?"

"The man who came for her on the 21st. He said he was taking her to be a magician's apprentice. I thought he was referring to you, so I sent Martha with him."

Nathaniel felt as dizzy all of a sudden as though he'd been slapped hard in the face. "No. I didn't send anyone for her. I couldn't have claimed her on the 21st, as I've only just turned 25."

Esther grabbed the doorframe. She looked as though she was ready to collapse. "Holy heavens… who took my little Martha then?"

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: well, guess who? ;)**

**Feedback is most welcome :)**


	19. Nobody's Father

**A/N: much thanks to Michael for helping me with the 'law talk' in this chapter.**

**Review responses sent out as usual.**

**Also thanks to: _LandUnderWave, Glitterfrost, Raine's Tears, Aiko Moonchild, Mewhoelse, annatari.the.writer, Phoenix, Apo, Duck Goddess, Hello, XxBlackChaosxX, Saldaen farmgirl, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, RoseFae, Queen Dragon, fikle, refloc (so happy to see you again!), starfiregracen, hollieshortgirl, xav_**

**Chapter 19**

**Nobody's Father**

_Five__ days earlier_

Martha curiously followed Mrs Dawson into a room. The only times when the woman had called her aside had been when she'd done nasty things like putting earthworms or slugs into Isabel's bed. But Isabel had deserved it, she was such a stuck-up little jerk… Now, however, Martha hadn't done anything wrong, hadn't even threatened Isabel with spiders for over a week. What could the matron want from her then?

The woman shut the door behind her, took a place on the moth-eaten sofa and patted it gently next to her. "Come, dear child, sit down next to me."

"Have I done something wrong, Mrs Dawson?" Martha asked, sitting down and trying to look as polite as possible, which had always been a struggle for her.

"No, dear." The woman shook her head, smiling. "A wonderful thing has happened, Martha. A gentleman has just arrived to take you with him."

"Take me away?" the child gasped. "But why? Because I'm not a good girl and I put slugs into Isabel's bed? Is that why you want to send me away?"

"Oh, no, dear." Esther put a hand around the girl's shoulder. "This gentleman will take you to a magician's home to London. You will be a magician's apprentice."

The little girl blinked. "Me? A magician's apprentice? Does that mean that some day I will be a magician?"

"Yes, dear."

Martha got excited. "Will I be able to make things fly if I point my wand at them and say _Wingardium Leviosa_?"

Esther laughed. "I don't know, I don't think real magicians use wands."

Martha's face fell. "Oh. That's bad. I wanted to show I could do it just like Hermione, if not better! Are you sure real magicians don't use wands?"

"I'm quite sure, dear," Esther replied. During Kitty's pregnancy, she had asked her daughter-in-law a few questions about magic, and Kitty had replied to the best of her knowledge. From all that she had heard, Esther drew the conclusion that magic was done through summoning demons who did the work instead of the magician.

The child pouted. "I don't want to become a magician then."

"It's not something you can decide, dear. You're a very lucky girl to have been chosen for such an important role. The magicians lead this country and you will be one of them."

Martha seemed contemplative for a moment. "Only if I get to be Minister for Finance. Can I be Minister for Finance?"

Esther suppressed a laugh. "Perhaps. It all depends on you. If you learn diligently, you will be good at magic and if you show talent, you might get the chance-"

"Like that funny long haired man from last week's newscast?"

Esther felt a flip-flop in her stomach. Last week there had been an interview with a few ministers and her son had been one of them. Ever since they had got enough money to buy a small TV for the orphanage, she kept following the 'London developments', in the hope of catching a glimpse of Nathaniel. He appeared in newscasts at least once a month. Esther knew that every time she saw him, he'd just announce something in his usual impassive way, giving her an urge to tell him off like she'd done in his childhood, but she still couldn't resist the temptation to grab every chance to see him, if only through a television screen. That was her only link to her son besides the monthly donations he kept sending the orphanage. Now she was quite disappointed that Nathaniel had sent someone to pick up the child and hadn't come in person. She so missed him…

"Yes, dear, just like that," she replied with a smile. "But why do you think he's funny?"

Martha shrugged. "Well, his hair. It's just stupidly long, isn't it? Boys don't have such long hair… he looked like a girl, only his voice was much deeper."

"What do you think of him… apart from the fact that he has stupidly long hair?"

"Oh, I don't know… he looked cute enough."

"Cute?"

The little girl nodded. "Yes, but he was talking about things that I didn't understand, and in such a weird way… so high-flying."

"High-flown," the woman corrected her gently.

"Yeah, that. Say, Mrs Dawson, couldn't I be a magician's apprentice but stay here? I don't want to go away, I like it here. Perhaps, we could tell the magician that I can read already and he could send me books, and I'd learn from them."

"Unfortunately, that is not possible, dear. You'll need to have a closer relationship to your master, as he will teach you several things in person."

"Do you think I could talk him into teaching me to make things fly?"

"I don't know, but you may try," Esther said with a gentle smile. "And now, let's go. We'll pack your things and this gentleman will take you to your master to London."

"Will you and the others visit me there? Or can I come visit you?"

The woman heaved a sigh. She'd been expecting this question. "I'm afraid not. A magician's apprentice needs to severe all ties to his or her previous home, family, or in your case, us."

"Severe the ties? What does that mean?"

"It means you can never see us again," the woman said, not looking at the child. She felt that a part of her heart was being ripped out at the moment.

Martha crossed her arms and shook her head. "I'm not going then. I won't leave you, Mrs Dawson!"

Her grandmother blinked back a tear. "I'm sorry, dear, but you have no choice."

o o o O O O o o o

Martha sat in the man's black car, staring at the landscape flashing by, tears rolling down her cheeks. Mrs Dawson had forced her to leave with this unsympathetic man dressed all in black! At the moment she hated the matron who apparently didn't like her either or she wouldn't have given her away to this nasty-looking man. There was one thing she didn't understand, though: if Mrs Dawson didn't like her, then why had she cried when she escorted her to the car?

The only thing Martha was happy about was that she had managed to give Isabel one last shock. That irritating, stuck-up little girl had come to her, asking with a grin 'So, we're getting rid of you at last? Mrs Dawson is sending you away because you're always so nasty, isn't she?'

Martha had replied: 'I'm going to London to be a magician's apprentice and to be magician when I grow up! I will be the Minister for Finance some day, and you'll be green with envy!'

'Martha!' Mary, the other matron had told her off with a disapproving stare. Isabel, on the other hand, looked downright envious of her luck. This gave Martha some satisfaction, but it wasn't enough to suppress her sadness. Had she been such a bad little girl that they wanted to get rid of her? Why, even Timothy had put a bunch of ants into Isabel's bed once… she hadn't been the only naughty one among the children. If that magician wanted a naughty child as his apprentice, he could as well have chosen Timothy. But no, he had apparently chosen her.

'I'm sure that your master will grow fond of you soon and his wife will treat you like her own child,' Mrs Dawson had told her while packing her things. 'You will have a family. Isn't that wonderful?'

Martha had just given the matron a scowl and defiantly looked away.

A family? – She wondered, staring out the car window. Could she have a mother and father? Would they love her? Would they love her if they found out she'd been putting slugs and earthworms into Isabel's bed? No, she'd better never tell them or they surely wouldn't like her.

By the time they got into London, her tears had ebbed and she watched the weird, tall houses with awe. She'd never seen buildings like these, and definitely hadn't seen so many at once. And the cars, oh the cars! There were cars everywhere! Big and small, black, red and blue, cars in all sizes and all colours of the rainbow! Why, that was a Mercedes over there! Martha got all excited by the sight of the Mercedes. She had been fascinated by cars since the age of three, and had been collecting paper cuttings about various types of cars. She could determine a car's type without seeing its emblem, just by looking at its design. She had learned to read at the age of four (she wouldn't leave Mrs Dawson alone as long as she didn't teach her to read) and she read everything in the papers about cars, even though she didn't understand half of what was written there.

"Does my master have a car?" she asked the driver all of a sudden.

"Yes, _this_ is her car," the driver replied.

"_Her_?" Martha frowned. "Isn't my master a _he_?"

"I'm afraid not, missy. Last time I checked, Miss Farrar was a woman."

A female magician? – The child wondered. That sounded good. She was less afraid of adult females than adult males. Females were so much gentler… she'd surely get along well with this Miss Farrar. Perhaps she'd love her enough to be like a mother to her?

Soon the car stopped before a pretty garden. Seeing all the trees and bushes in the garden, Martha's spirits lifted a bit. One of the things that had disturbed her about London was the lack of greenery. In Fenny Bridges she'd got used to having nature around, she'd played in the grass and picked flowers in the nearby meadow. Perhaps this Miss Farrar would let her pick flowers in her garden…

The unsympathetic man opened the car door for her and led her deep into the garden, to a nice, white house with pink and magenta curtains in every window. Martha had never seen such a pretty building. She was almost looking forward to living here.

The man led her into the house and told her to stay in the hall until he announced their arrival to Miss Farrar. Upon being left alone in the hall, Martha looked around, her eyes drinking in all the beauties: a chandelier prettier than she'd ever seen before, a staircase with carved wooden banisters, and a really soft-looking red carpet on the stairs. She decided to check whether it was indeed as soft as it looked. She was busy poking the carpet on the lowest step when a cold female voice spoke up behind her.

"Stop ruining my possessions and come into the salon, child. And before you do, take that ridiculous cap off your head!"

Martha turned around to see a pretty young woman in her late twenties. She wore a green silk dress and her dark hair was twisted into an elegant knot on the back of her head. She looked like a real princess, the likes of which Martha had only seen in children's books, but there was something about her she didn't like. Perhaps the way Miss Farrar's green eyes were staring at her through long eyelashes, perhaps the way her lips were tucked into a supercilious grimace… Martha didn't know, all she knew was that her master gave her the creeps.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, pulling her favourite red baseball cap (that she usually wore back to front) off her head. "I didn't want to ruin anything, Miss Farrar. Oh, I'm Martha Jones, by the way." She held out her hand which the woman didn't take. After a while the little girl pulled her hand back. "Er… you may call me Mar, if you like that better…"

"I won't call you Martha or Mar or anything of the sort," the woman replied coldly. "You will simply be 'child' until you get your new name."

"My new name?" Martha asked, surprised. "Why? I like my current one."

Her master heaved a sigh, looking annoyed. "Every magician gets a new name at the age of twelve, when they turn adult in our society. You'd better forget your old name. People could use it against you. And should anyone ask your birth name, don't tell them."

Martha made a grimace. "Then would you call me Hermione, please? I like that name too. Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone is my favourite movie, and-"

"I'm not interested in the movies you like, and no, I'm not going to call you Hermione," the woman replied with a sneer.

"Why not? It sounds much better than 'child'," Martha insisted. "Besides, that's the name of a really great witch, I mean, a female magician. I want to be just as great as she is, and-"

"Stuck-up…" the woman murmured. "Amazing how much you resemble that…"

"Who?" The little girl asked curiously.

"Never mind," Miss Farrar said sharply. "Don't ask questions. Come with me, I'm going to show you your room."

o o o O O O o o o

This continued like this: whenever Martha asked a question, Miss Farrar told her off for having spoken without being asked. But Martha simply couldn't _not_ ask questions, there were so many things she wanted to know about magicians… Now, after having spent five whole days in Miss Farrar's home, she still didn't know whether magicians used wands for making things fly or not.

Her master didn't spend much time at home – according to Geoffrey (the man who had picked her up in the orphanage and who had turned out to be a real demon in human disguise) – she was spending most of her time at Whitehall. Martha didn't know what Whitehall was.

The only times she met Miss Farrar had been at dinnertime, but the woman had always been careful to finish dinner quickly so that her apprentice couldn't ask her questions. She treated Martha with cold impassivity and for the first time in her life Martha felt she was not being loved by anyone. At night she usually cried herself to sleep, longing for Mrs Dawson's bedtime stories, and sometimes she even missed Isabel.

Now, after barely having talked to her master, Martha was quite surprised when Geoffrey told her to appear in the salon and behave really politely because Miss Farrar was about to introduce her to someone important.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel drove back to London, not even remembering when he'd last felt this upset. And his poor mother… Esther had got into a really bad state, sobbing and shaking, and he had had to lead her into the hall, ask Mary to bring her a sedative, then sit down next to her and embrace her, whispering 'I'll find her, I promise, don't be worried' into her ear again and again. When he'd left the orphanage, she looked somewhat calmer, but Nathaniel was quite sure that if it weren't for the sedatives, she still would have been in hysterics.

And truth be told, he felt he was on the verge of losing his nerve too. He tried to calm down telling himself that he was Deputy Prime Minister, there was no way he wouldn't be able to find out who had taken his daughter and persuade that person to hand the child over to be _his_ apprentice. He could also offer that magician another child from any orphanage, and the magician would surely be delighted to have the honour of handing the girl over to the second most powerful man in the country!

With his heart beating in his throat, he stopped the car in front of the Employment Ministry.

o o o O O O o o o

"…I hope you know that all children's papers are destroyed once they are taken by a magician as an apprentice, Sir," the clerk said.

"Of course I know," Nathaniel said with barely hidden anger. "But you can surely tell me who took a child from Fenny Bridges during the last week?"

The clerk bowed slightly. "As far as I remember, it was a lady who handed in her claim for a female child last week and promised to send her servant for the child so that we didn't even have to bother with it. Five days ago she came into our office, handed over the child's papers to be destroyed and signed all the necessary forms."

"And who was this lady?"

"A moment, Sir, I shall look for the form…" The clerk began looking through a huge stack of papers. "Oh, there. Miss Jane Farrar."

Nathaniel felt he had once again been slapped in the face. Jane! This couldn't be a coincidence! Jane didn't even like children! There was no way she'd want to claim an apprentice as soon as possible… _only if she wanted to be quicker than him_. After all, she knew when his birthday was, they had celebrated it together a few times all those years ago… She surely knew he'd have to wait another five days to claim the child, and… Nathaniel felt dizzy all of a sudden. She must have known it was _his child_! But how on earth had she found out?

"Are you all right, Sir?" the clerk asked, looking worried. "You've turned as white as a sheet. Perhaps you'd like a glass of water?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine." The young Deputy Prime Minister took a deep breath, forcing himself to breath evenly. This lowly ministry employee wasn't supposed to see him all agitated. "Thank you for the information."

"You're most welcome, Sir."

o o o O O O o o o

His insides were squirming as he got out of the car in front of the gate of Jane's garden. The last time he'd been here had been almost six years ago. Jane's neatly trimmed bushes were starting to show the first buds and hundreds of white, yellow and lilac crocuses bloomed on both sides of the garden path.

Nathaniel didn't know what he was expecting from this visit, as he doubted Jane would willingly give Martha over to him, but he had to try at least. For Kitty and for his mother. And well, a little bit for himself as well. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but deep down he had been looking forward to meeting his daughter. He wasn't fond of children – sometimes they downright scared him – but Martha was still _his_ child. He doubted he could ever really love her, but a part of him wanted to be proud of her at least.

He rang the bell and Jane's demon Geoffrey whom Nathaniel had known from the 'good old times', came to open the gate for him. "May I announce your arrival to my mistress, Sir?"

"Do so," Nathaniel replied, smoothing his jacket and adjusting his tie.

The demon led him into the salon that had a dark green curtain, an emerald green sofa, several green armchairs and even the carpets and the vase on the glass table were green. For a second Nathaniel felt he was the same seventeen-year-old boy who had entered this salon after having brought Jane home from a ball where she'd claimed to have drunk a little too much to drive her own car. He had been the gentleman, and she had been the seducer, taking his virginity on that very sofa… The inexperienced boy hadn't been nearly as nervous in this salon eight years ago as he was now. Back then he had been shaking with anticipation and fright over the prospect of disappointing Jane. The current Nathaniel was shaking with anticipation over seeing his daughter (if Jane let him see her at all) and fright that he might have lost her already.

"Why, what a pleasant surprise," the woman's mellifluous voice spoke up behind him. He whirled around to see an evilly smiling Jane Farrar.

"Don't tell me it's a surprise. You knew I'd come."

Jane shrugged. "Yes, I knew. I was pretty sure you'd find out I had claimed little Martha as my apprentice… Oops, have I said her name?" She let out a small laugh that made Nathaniel's stomach clench painfully. This infernal woman had his daughter in her clutches and knew her name!

"How did you find out?" he asked, forcing his features not to show the turmoil that was raging in his soul at the moment.

"She told me."

"Not the name," he said. In the Amendments to the Apprenticeship Act, there was a section that handled this. '_Whereas when the magician selects his or her apprentice from an orphanage, it is inevitable that he or she finds out the child's birth name; and whereas when he or she hands in his or her claim to the Employment Ministry, it is also inevitable that the clerk accepting or refusing the claim will find out the child's name: it shall be an offence under this section: _

_(1) for the said magician or clerk to mention the child's name to anyone other than those to whom it is already known (which same shall without prejudice to the generality of the foregoing include the staff at the aforesaid orphanage); or _

_(2) to use the child's name to its detriment; _

_and in surety thereof, the said magician and clerk shall be required to sign a magical contract, the curse of which shall exact severe punishment for any breach thereof._' Nathaniel knew this well, as he had been the person to suggest the cursed contract. "I'm rather curious to know how you found out about her existence."

"Oh, that…" Jane dropped herself on the sofa, crossing her legs and looking casual. "Let that remain my secret."

"What are your intentions with her?" he questioned her darkly.

"Oh, let's see… annoying you and that little commoner tramp… er… sorry, forgot her name…"

"It's Kitty and you haven't forgotten it," he hissed. "I want you to hand over the child, or-"

"Or what?" Jane arched an eyebrow at him. "Will you use your power as Deputy Prime Minister to take her forcibly from me? Hold your horses, Johnny… You might have power over the whole Empire, but I have power over you. If you try to take the child from me, I will tell everyone she's yours. You might find yourself making photocopies as a lowly clerk quicker than you can imagine. Not to mention that… I know the child's name, remember? I could use it against her."

"You wouldn't dare," he said through gritted teeth. "The curse-"

"Oh, the curse." Jane waved. "You might not have heard yet, but Arnold Callaghan, the deputy to the Employment Minister is my current boyfriend. He made sure the contract I signed had no curse on it. See, I have my contacts in the right places, even though you tried to make sure I don't. And don't even think of sacking Arnold, or the world will find out about your being a daddy…"

Giving him a nasty grin, she stood up and walked up to him. "As for the child… should you do anything… say, try to get her from me…" She wound her arms around his neck, "I'll use her name against her." She traced his jaw-line with a finger. He didn't even budge or push her away – he felt paralysed.

"You… you wouldn't…"

"Oh, believe me, I would," Jane replied with a sickeningly sweet smile.

"How can you be so cruel?"

"Cruel, me?" she snapped, taking a step backwards. "It was you who left me for a commoner tramp! It was you who humiliated me twice before important people! I haven't been able to get myself promoted ever since, thanks to you!"

Nathaniel gulped. "I'm sorry… Jane… just think this over… she's… she's my child."

The woman shook her head. "By blood, yes. But only by blood. If you want to make sure that the girl doesn't suffer any harm, and if you want to keep your position as Deputy PM, you won't tell anyone. And since no one knows… you're officially nobody's father. Grin and bear it, John. She's mine and I'm not letting you have her."

Nathaniel again felt dizzy. For the first time in his life, power didn't mean anything, as he couldn't use it. He was trapped. But he wouldn't leave without seeing Martha. "At least… let me see her. Just once."

Jane shrugged. "Why not?" She clapped twice and Geoffrey materialised next to her. "Bring the child here, and tell her to behave. I want to introduce her to someone… important."

This was the longest two minutes of Nathaniel's life. His heart hammering in his throat, his hands involuntarily clenched into fists, a vein pulsing on his temple, he waited. Finally, the pattering of little feet could be heard – someone was running down the stairs. In the next instant, she stood there in the doorway, her long, wavy black hair cascading over her shoulders from under the red baseball cap she wore back to front.

As her eyes met his, Nathaniel felt his knees go weak. His own blue eyes were staring back at him from a face that was a younger version of Kitty's. For a few seconds they just stared at each other, then Jane broke the silence.

"How many times do I have to tell you to take that ridiculous cap off?"

"Oh, forgot." Martha quickly pulled the cap off and hid it behind her back.

"Well, John, this is my apprentice." Jane gave him an indulgent smile. "A little ill-mannered, but what can you expect from a village girl? Don't worry, within a few months, she will be tamed into a perfect young lady."

The young man's eyes flashed at the word 'tamed'.

"Child, this is-"

"The Deputy Prime Minister, I know!" Martha said quickly. "Seen him on TV! Hello, Mr Minister!" With that she held out a hand.

Before Nathaniel knew what he was doing, he took her hand. It was so tiny and warm… For the second time in his life he felt that fuzzy warmth he'd first felt when he'd held the newborn Martha for the first time. He couldn't have described it with any other word but 'magic'.

"First: don't interrupt when I'm speaking, second: don't offer your hand to a person of a much higher rank than you are," Jane hissed to Martha, breaking the magic of the moment.

Martha made a grimace, pulling her hand out of her father's. "S'ry."

"Third: it's 'sorry', fourth: never grimace in my presence," the female magician said sharply.

"Yes, Madam." Martha looked away from her master, and her eyes again met her father's. "I want to be Minister for Finance one day. Can you arrange that?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Nathaniel couldn't stop his lips from tucking into a small smile. "Perhaps."

"Cool!" Martha beamed.

"Fifth: a lady never says 'cool'," Jane said coldly.

"Why, what does a lady say?"

"A lady says 'wonderful' or 'excellent'," Nathaniel replied before Jane could.

"Oh, all right." Martha shrugged. "But I'm not sure I want to be a lady at all…"

"Only if you become a lady can you become Minister for Finance," the young man said, bending slightly to be closer to her height. "And you'll have to learn a lot from Miss Farrar if you want to be a perfect lady _and_ Minister for Finance."

"But I'm not sure I want to." The child pouted. "I don't like it here."

"Sixth: it is an important rule here: do not lie," Jane hissed at Martha.

"But I'm not lying!"

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not!" Martha stamped her foot. Jane clapped, and in the next moment Martha was hanging upside down, her long black locks sweeping the carpet. She'd dropped the red cap in fright.

Nathaniel felt one of the worst memories of his life rushing back to him: himself hanging upside down, an invisible club beating him until he lost his consciousness…

"Stop!" he shouted, jumping between Martha and Jane. "Don't hurt her!"

The woman seemed to be amused by his expression of utter horror. "As you wish." She clapped and the invisible force dropped the child onto the carpet. "Next time you will really be punished for lies, child. Now, get out of here, and no dinner tonight!"

Tears welling up in her eyes, Martha grabbed her baseball cap and stormed out of the room without giving Nathaniel a second glance.

"See? She didn't even thank you," Jane said with a sarcastic smile. "You'd better forget about her, John. If you want your child as your apprentice, then go and get your wife pregnant again. _If_ she's willing to sleep with you, which I seriously doubt…"

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty was staring out the window, getting more and more worried every minute. Where was her husband? He should have arrived back by four o'clock! It was eight p.m. and still no sight of him… Had he been in a car crash? The mere idea made her shudder. _No, he's fine and he's bringing our daughter back_! – She tried to convince herself. _But what's taking him so long?_

Finally, a pair of headlights appeared in the end of the garden, shining through the darkness. Kitty's heart began racing. Nathaniel was home with their little girl! In just a few minutes she'd be able to embrace her Martha at last! At that moment she felt she could have forgiven her husband everything and loved him again, given themselves the chance to be a family at last…

She ran out of her room, down the marble stairs. The front door opened to let a haggard looking Nathaniel in. Kitty stopped in her stride. There was something on his face that sent a chill down her spine. His eyes held a haunted look, and his features looked anything but that of a proud father.

He banged the door shut and that was when she realised that there was no Martha with him.

"What… what happened?" she croaked.

He cast his eyes down. "Jane."

"Jane what?"

"Jane has somehow found out we have a child and… claimed her as her apprentice before I could."

Kitty gasped. "No! Tell me you're kidding!"

He didn't reply.

She grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "Tell me you're kidding! Tell me it's not true!"

Finally he looked up and she saw eternal sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Kitty. It's true."

"H…how?"

He shook his head. "I don't know how she found out, but she did and she's unwilling to hand over the child. She blackmailed me."

"Black… blackmailed?" she breathed. "With what?"

"She knows Martha's birth name and said she'd use it against her if I tried to get her back… she also said if I tried anything, she'd tell everyone Martha is ours, and…"

Kitty stepped back from him. "But you can surely make up something… you can, can't you?" Her voice wavered.

"I'm sorry…"

Something snapped in Kitty. "For heaven's sake, you're the second most powerful man in this bloody country! Do something!"

"I can't."

"Of course, you can't! You don't care for anything but your fucking reputation again, our child means nothing!"

Something snapped in Nathaniel too. "I never even wanted this child!"

All the anger she'd suppressed for five years exploding out of her, Kitty punched him across the face, sending him reeling backwards until his head hit the end of the banister. He collapsed.

Her eyes widened with shock, Kitty stared at his crumpled form for a few seconds. The thought 'heavens, I've killed my husband!' ran through her mind. She needed another few seconds to screw up her courage to crouch down and touch his wrist. There was a pulse. It was somewhat erratic, but strong. Tears welled up in her eyes at relief.

She stood up, her tears now freely flowing down her cheeks. She loved this man and hated him at the same time. She'd lost everything because of him, even her daughter. Now that she knew her husband wasn't strong enough to do something about the situation, she no longer had a reason to stay.

She ran up the stairs. In the space of five minutes she packed a few clothes into a tiny bag, and had almost left her bedroom when she doubled back. With a sudden thought she pulled the wedding ring off her finger and placed it on the vanity table. As she did so, something caught her eye – something that glinted. It was the diamond necklace she'd worn the previous night to some stupid minister's stupid party. She slammed the necklace into its box and dropped the box into her bag.

When she reached back into the hall, her husband was still out cold. Her glance lingered on him for a second. "Good bye, John," she whispered and hurried out of the building.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: Nat's getting left all alooooone… _sniff-sniff_**

**And now, it's time to praise YOU, the readers of this story. You, the readers of the Barty and the Artemis Fowl fandoms, are simply wonderful. Why? Because you actually CARE to review. In these two fandoms 10 percent of the readers review, which is an amazing amount. In other fandoms (even here on ffnet) only 1-3 percent of the readers do. So thank you so much, and continue being so responsive! Love you all!**


	20. Nobody's Husband

**A/N: since ffnet's alerts were down again for a while and I don't know if my review replies went through, I'm thanking everyone here who reviewed chapter 19: _Slytherin Daughter, xav, Mewhoelse, XxBlackChaosxX, Musica Diabolos, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, Aiko Moonchild, LandUnderWave, Junky, Phoenix, Fredryck, fredsgurl, Queen Dragon, Apo, Bec, Teya Yashitoda, Hello, Duck Goddess, fikle, ebtwisty9, Glitara Keladry Sophia, Gryffon5147, The Black Shadow in your room_**

**Chapter 20**

**Nobody's Husband**

Martha stared into the darkness. Her eyes ached with the tears she'd shed and her stomach rumbled painfully. For the first time in her life she'd been left without dinner. The matrons in the orphanage usually punished the children for their naughtiness with making them peel potatoes or wash the tiles in the bathroom, but they had never left them without food. How she missed everyone in the orphanage! How she missed the dinners with Mrs Dawson saying a short prayer before they ate, Isabel being her usual fussy self and Timothy dropping ant eggs into the others' bowls of soup!

The only good thing that had happened to her in the house had been the visit of the Deputy Prime Minister. Such a nice and friendly man, he'd even protected her against her master… Martha felt ashamed she hadn't thanked him for that.

She didn't know how long she'd waited in the darkness in the hope that Miss Farrar would go to sleep at last and she could go and nick something from the kitchen. It must have been hours. Finally, when she thought it was out of the question that her master could be still awake, she quietly opened her door and crept downstairs. Before she could enter the kitchen, a voice caught her ears.

"…and imagine what the little creep said: she wants to be Minister for Finance," Miss Farrar said amusedly. Martha assumed her master was talking to someone over the phone. Too bad she wasn't asleep yet… But wait… was the 'little creep' Miss Farrar had referred to… _her_?

The woman in the room laughed. Someone must have told her something funny. "Oh come on, can you imagine me being nice to a child? If it's up to me, that little snot will be a lowly clerk and grateful for it. She's not exactly bright anyway. But let's not talk about her, Arnold, dear. What about that party next week? In case you're interested, I don't have a date yet…"

Forgetting about her hunger, Martha turned on her heels and ran back to her room. She flung herself on the bed, tears again starting to flow down her cheeks. This woman was indeed evil… she had not only nearly beaten her (she was sure Miss Farrar would have done it, if that nice man hadn't stopped her), but she didn't want to help her become Minister for Finance either. She had so hoped Miss Farrar would grow to like her and treat her like a mother, but she no longer thought it was possible. Miss Farrar seemed to loathe her.

_Not exactly bright_… That hurt. Martha was born with a little more self-respect than the average (perhaps only Isabel had more of that than her), and she was exceptionally clever – at age five she was on the intellectual level of an eight-year-old.

She'd once overheard a discussion between the two matrons about her being precocious. She had got curious to find out what that word meant, so she looked it up in a lexicon. It meant she was too clever for her age. This filled her with excitement and satisfaction.

'Why are you always so annoying, Martha?' Isabel had once asked her.

'I'm not annoying, I'm _precocious_,' she had replied proudly, happy to see confusion on Isabel's face.

And now, this evil woman was saying she was not bright? And she didn't want her to be a minister? The only reason she'd agreed to come to London was to become Minister for Finance. Perhaps Foreign Minister. Or at least a bank manager. To make Mrs Dawson proud of her...

Now, Martha could no longer find a reason to stay. If she couldn't be a proper magician, then she'd not be a magician at all.

She wiped her tears and made a decision. She'd escape from this evil house, as soon as possible.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel groaned, forcing his eyes to open, though it was a real effort as his eyelids didn't want to cooperate and insisted on staying shut. Finally he managed to open his eyes and blinked a few times. His vision was somewhat hazy but he still managed to determine his location: he was half-lying, half-sitting in the hall, his head propped against the banister and throbbing horribly.

He sat up and touched the back of his head. "Ouch." There was a big bump, but he seemed to have no other injuries. Gently rubbing his bump, Nathaniel tried to remember. He'd been to Jane's house then arrived home and Kitty shouted at him, then… she'd hit him. He tentatively touched his jaw. It ached almost as much as the back of his head. That fiery woman… she must be sulking in her room right now. Well, she had had a good reason to punch him, but it wasn't nice of her to leave him lying in the hall…

He stood up and took a few shaky steps. Once he was sure his legs could carry him, he walked upstairs.

When he spotted Kitty's bedroom door hanging open, he felt an icy hand clench at his insides. She couldn't have possibly…?

"Kitty!" He ran into the dark room. Switching on the lights, he let out a gasp. Pieces of clothing littered the floor, the bed and the chairs, and some of the drawers were pulled open, as though the room's owner had been too much in a hurry to push them back. It seemed that all the clothes lying around were from Dior – apparently Kitty had only taken her old, baggy things with her. "Noooo… E…Enid! Ugli!"

The two foliots appeared at once. "Master?"

"What happened here?" Nathaniel demanded, as though he hadn't figured out himself.

"Well, someone seems to have made a mess…" Ugli observed.

Nathaniel glanced at the clock on the wall – it showed ten p.m. He'd arrived at home shortly after eight. That means he'd been out cold for almost two hours. "What have you two been doing in the last two hours?" he snapped.

"We were cleaning the swimming pool, master," Enid replied. "You ordered us to do it because you wanted it filled with water as the weather was getting warmer and warmer every day-"

"I know what I ordered you to do!" Nathaniel snapped. "But couldn't you have done it at daylight?"

"We could have." Ugli shrugged. "But we wanted to have it ready by the morning so that we could fill it with water for you. We thought you'd enjoy a refreshing swim before you go to work…"

Nathaniel swore.

"Why, what happened, master?"

"What happened? You're asking me what happened?" the young magician shouted at the two scared demons. "My wife has run away, that's what happened! She packed her things and left! Two hours ago!" He took a few deep, calming breaths. "Two hours isn't that much, she could still be in the vicinity… but if she took a bus to a railway station, she could be out of London already, or… no, she surely didn't go to the airport. She'd need to use her passport and if she did, she'd be registered on the passenger list, and…"

"Master…" Enid held up a tiny booklet. "The mistress left her passport here."

"Oh." Nathaniel let out a sigh of relief. If Kitty was still in Great Britain without a chance of leaving the country, he had a better chance of finding her. "Ugli, I want you to go looking for her. You too, Enid. Return by dawn and report to me."

His glance fell upon the vanity table. There was something small and round glinting on it. He picked it up and his heart missed a beat. It was Kitty's wedding ring. This was a rather clear message that she wanted to severe all ties to him. And well, she had a point. At that moment, Nathaniel loathed himself.

"And you, master?" the female foliot asked with a worried face. "What are _you_ going to do?"

"I'm going to phone my in-laws to ask them whether Kitty has gone to their place," the young magician replied in a tired voice, "and if she's not there, then I'm going to get drunk. Very drunk."

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty spent the night walking aimlessly around London. She didn't want to sit down on a park bench, because the nights were still too chilly for that – she needed to keep moving. She couldn't go to her parents' place either because she assumed that would be the first place where Nathaniel would be looking for her. She couldn't check into a hotel either because she didn't have any money. She had to sell the necklace to get cash, then find some cheap accommodation where the owner didn't care about her name and papers, only for the money she paid. In her Resistance years she'd known quite a few hostels like that.

Tired from a whole night spent walking and frozen to the bones, Kitty arrived before a pawnshop's door at dawn and sat down on the doormat to make sure she'd be the first client in the morning. She had to fight with her drooping eyelids – she didn't want to fall asleep because of the cold and because she didn't want to risk that anyone steal her necklace while she's dosing.

The shop's owner was quite surprised to see the young woman sitting on his doorstep at eight o'clock.

He invited her into the shop, and Kitty welcomed the relative warmth inside.

"Well, Miss, what can I do for you?"

"I have something to sell…" She pulled the necklace out of its box.

The shop owner took it from her, laid it on the counter and fished a magnifier out of his pocket. After a few seconds of thorough inspection, he looked up, his face incredulous. "But this is… invaluable!"

Kitty shrugged. "I suppose so… but it means nothing to me. It can't feed me or get me a bed to sleep in… I need cash. How much can you offer for it?"

"Well… let's say forty thousand pounds."

Kitty was quite sure that the necklace was worth at least a hundred thousand, but she needed the money badly, so she decided to accept the offer.

"Oh and-" The shop owner caught her right hand, taking a closer look at her diamond ring. "I'd give two thousand for this one."

Kitty pulled her hand out of his. "No, thank you. I want to keep this… my engagement ring."

"I see. Should you change your mind…"

She shook her head. She couldn't have explained why she insisted on keeping it – it had been just another piece of superfluous jewellery given to her by Nathaniel. Not to mention that he'd given her the necklace at Christmas five years earlier, when they'd been deeply in love while the engagement ring he'd given her a month before their wedding when neither of them had loved the other yet. And still… this ring was the only link to Nathaniel she had left. She'd left the wedding ring on her vanity table as a message to Nathaniel 'don't even try to find me', but she couldn't bring herself to part with this ring as well. This was the first ever 'present' she'd got from him.

Once the pawnshop owner had paid her the promised forty thousand pounds, she set out to find accommodation. By nine o'clock she was fast asleep in a dingy little hostel room somewhere in Balham.

o o o O O O o o o

"You look horrible," Ffoukes observed as he met Nathaniel on the corridor at Whitehall.

"You don't look very healthy yourself," the young magician replied morosely.

Ffoukes heaved a sigh. "Something really… disturbing happened to me."

"What?" Nathaniel asked, pretending to be interested, though he couldn't care less at the moment.

The older man leaned closer. "I think someone modified my memories."

Nathaniel blinked. "What makes you think so?"

"Yesterday morning I woke up with a strange feeling… and I realised that a few hours were missing from my memories. A few hours of the night from Sunday to Monday."

"So something happened to you after Sullivan's party?"

"I think so. My wife told me off for having disappeared for hours after the party, and I just don't remember what happened! Now imagine, she thinks I cheated on her with someone!"

Nathaniel looked contemplative. "Sounds fishy, we should investigate by all means. Or have you started investigations already?"

Ffoukes shook his head. "No, I wanted to discuss it with you first. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but couldn't, as you took a day off…"

The young man made a grimace. "It was my birthday."

"Oh, really? Happy belated birthday, John!"

"Happy?" Nathaniel sighed. "Crappy, not happy. It was the worst birthday of my life. Kitty left me."

Ffoukes's eyes widened. "She left you?"

"Yes."

"But… why? I mean, we all knew something had gone wrong in your relationship years ago, but your wife seemed determined to stay with you…"

"We had a rather… serious row yesterday, and she… punched me." Nathaniel coloured slightly.

"Oh, so that's how you got that nice bruise on your chin?"

"I wouldn't call it nice," the Depute Prime Minister grunted. "But yes, she punched me so hard that I fell against the banister, hit my head and lost consciousness. By the time I got around, she had packed her things and left."

"Oh, John, I'm so sorry…" Ffoukes said, as he slightly bowed to Jessica Whitwell who was passing by.

"As I am," Nathaniel replied. "I'd do anything to get her back, Ffoukes. Anything."

o o o O O O o o o

"I'm bored," Martha complained to Geoffrey. Miss Farrar had left for Whitehall an hour earlier. Martha had had her breakfast after her master had left, and since Geoffrey had been outside gardening, she had had a chance to access the box in which the demon stored the money he'd got from Miss Farrar for daily purchases. The little girl had a very bad feeling about nicking seventy pounds, but she needed it to buy her tickets for the journey. She was going home, and no Miss Farrar would hold her back, ever! And once she returned home, her master would surely realise what a bad idea it had been to pick her of all children, and she'd look for someone else to be her apprentice.

Now, as she was watching the demon vacuum clean the hall, she felt that the money was practically burning her pocket. Mrs Dawson had taught the Ten Commandments to the children at the orphanage, and 'don't steal' had been one of them. But surely even God would understand how desperately she needed this money and would forgive her. Besides, she didn't take much, and she usually kept all other commandments, so she wasn't so much of a bad girl… For example, she hardly ever fibbed, didn't disrespect her parents as she didn't have any, and she didn't even know what adultery was (she'd asked Mrs Dawson once, and didn't have the slightest idea why the matron had blushed and told her to go play with the others instead of asking weird questions…)

"I'm boooored," she repeated, somewhat louder to make sure Geoffrey would hear her, even over the noise of the vacuum cleaner.

"And?" the demon looked up with a morose face.

"Let's play."

"Play? I have to do the housework, missy!"

Martha shrugged. "I'll help you with the housework if you play with me a bit. It's only fair, isn't it?"

The demon seemed thoughtful. "Can you wash the dishes properly?"

"Of course I can," Martha replied eagerly. "I did it several times in the orphanage, and only broke two plates and one glass. That isn't much, is it? And I can also peel potatoes and scrub the tiles in the bathroom."

Geoffrey seemed pleased. "All right, you will peel potatoes for tonight's dinner, and I'll play with you in exchange."

"Great!" The girl clasped her hands. "Hide and seek, my favourite! I hide, you seek! You've got to count to a thousand before you start looking for me."

"A thousand? Isn't that a bit too much?" Geoffrey frowned.

"Nooo, not at all." Martha shook her head. Apparently the demon was a rather inexperienced hide-and-seek-player which she could use to her advantage. "And you've got to count slowly. Reeeally slowly."

The demon seemed a bit confused, but nodded. "Okay. Now, where should I do the counting?"

"There." Martha pointed at the corner. "And you've got to be facing towards the corner, with closed eyes. Peeking is forbidden. You may start."

Geoffrey did as told. "One, two, three…"

Martha raced up the stairs, grabbed her bag with her clothes (she'd stuffed them into the bag overnight to spare time now), and ran downstairs. Geoffrey was obediently counting. "Forty-five, forty-six…"

By the time the demon reached eighty, Martha was out of the house and out of the garden. By the time Geoffrey reached two hundred, Martha had got on a bus, and by the time the demon was finished with counting, the child was in the centre of London.

Now all she had to do was find the London Waterloo train station. She knew that there she'd surely find a train to Feniton (that was only a kilometre from Fenny Bridges) because Mary, the younger matron at the orphanage had come to visit her London relatives a few times and Martha had heard her mentioning to Mrs Dawson that she had had to take the train from London Waterloo to return to Feniton. It was a useful thing to eavesdrop on the adults' discussions once in a while…

o o o O O O o o o

"You wanted to talk to me, Sir?" Nathaniel entered Deveraux's over-decorated office.

"Yes, dear boy." The Prime Minister nodded. Even though Nathaniel was no longer a boy and was the second most influential man in the Empire, Deveraux still called him 'dear boy' or 'my boy', 'my young friend', and occasionally just 'John'. Nathaniel felt it was a little degrading, but he couldn't instruct the PM not to call him these things, could he? Now, as he looked at the older man, he saw a fatherly expression on his face. "Please, sit down, my boy."

Nathaniel took a place in an armchair facing the Prime Minister's. "I'm all ears, Sir."

"No, no need to be this official." Deveraux shook his head. "I'm not talking to you as Prime Minister to this deputy, but as a friend to a friend, or a father to his son."

"I understand, Sir." The young magician nodded, but didn't understand it in the least. "What do you want to talk to me about as… father to son?"

"About your marriage, John." The Prime Minister held a small pause, scrutinising Nathaniel's features. "I know your wife left you overnight."

"If I may ask, Sir, how did you find out? I wasn't… advertising it."

Deveraux smiled benignly. "The lovely Miss Whitwell told me when she was here half an hour ago. She seems to have overheard a discussion between you and Ffoukes."

"Oh. I see."

"Am I right assuming that you have no idea where your wife went?"

"Yes, Sir. Not even her parents know about her whereabouts. She even left her wedding ring…" Nathaniel looked away, staring at the patterns on the chair's armrest. "I think she doesn't want me to find her, ever."

"And you will respect her wishes."

"What?" The younger man looked up, as if stung by a bee.

"You're not going after her." Deveraux's voice was warm, friendly, but determined.

Nathaniel knitted his eyebrows. "But… why not?"

"Dear boy, you are the Deputy Prime Minister! You have power, respect, and you can't make yourself a laughing stock by running after a woman who left you!"

"Are you forbidding me to look for her?" Nathaniel couldn't help feeling revulsion for the Prime Minister at the moment.

Deveraux heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, John. I have no other choice. Our position doesn't allow for sentimentality… It was bad enough when your and Miss Farrar's heated debate was played and replayed in the television, but you were just a minor minister then. You could afford sentimentality and hotheadedness then. _Now_ you can't. Mrs Mandrake is an adult. If she decided to leave, you have to respect her will."

"But… what about the marriage contract? It states she has to stay with me!"

"It seems to me, my young friend, that you haven't read your own marriage contract properly. It states – in the small print – that if your commoner wife whom you have graciously lifted out of the mob cheats on you or breaks the contract by leaving you, you have the right to have the marriage annulled."

"A... annulled?" Nathaniel breathed. Deveraux didn't mean he wanted him to… to? _Heavens…_

"Yes. As Deputy Prime Minister, you have responsibilities, and one of them is to let the world see that this Empire is led by strong-handed, determined men who never hesitate to act when their honour is at stake. Your wife left you, John. She doesn't deserve to be called Mrs Mandrake anymore, and even less does she deserve to inherit your property, should she outlive you. Be tough, John, and have the marriage annulled. For the Empire's sake."

_I married her for the Empire's sake… now divorce her for the same? Life is so unfair_ – Nathaniel thought bitterly, but nodded. "As you wish, Sir."

"I knew you'd understand." Deveraux smiled. "And since I knew you'd listen to me, I have called my lawyer, he's waiting outside. He's brought the necessary papers for you to sign, and in ten minutes, you shall be a free man again."

_Hooray,_ Nathaniel thought sarcastically, feeling angrier than ever before, but tried to force his features to remain indifferent. He'd lost his child to the Empire, and now he was about to lose his wife as well. Forever.

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty woke at midday, and thought she'd go for a walk. She took the bus to the city centre, and had a few doughnuts at the Druids' Coffee House. She hadn't been there for years. She knew that showing herself in crowded places wasn't a good idea, but she couldn't spend the rest of her life hiding. Besides, it was highly unlikely that her husband had sent policemen after her.

Druids' woke memories in her – both good and bad. It had been thirteen years ago that Mr Pennyfeather had invited her here to offer her a place in the Resistance. The old man had died eleven years ago, and the Resistance had been wiped out six years later. To Kitty it seemed that an eternity had passed since she'd first met John Mandrake the day after Pennyfeather's death. John Mandrake had taken everything from her she held precious: first he turned her parents against her, then he and the magician society forced her only remaining friend, Jakob to leave, then he took her freedom by throwing her into the Tower, then he took all that remained to her by forcing her into this marriage… Then he stole her heart and blinded her with smooth words and soft kisses… Then he tore her daughter from her, threw her fellows into the Tower, causing two children's death, and finally, he even gave up on getting their daughter back from that horrible woman.

Kitty felt something salty mix with sweet in her mouth – she had showered her doughnut with tears.

After having finished eating and having forced John out of her mind, she walked back to the bus stop to return to her rented room in Balham.

The bus arrived and Kitty was just about to get on when a little girl called to her. "Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find the Waterloo train station?"

The child was smiling hopefully at her, her big blue eyes glinting in a friendly way. She was fiddling with her wavy, black locks, and a red baseball cap was sitting jauntily on her head. Something warm and fuzzy filled Kitty's insides – something that she couldn't have explained. "Certainly, dear," she replied just as the bus she'd wanted to get on left. "You've got to go straight ahead until you reach a big, glass house. There you have to turn right and walk two corners, and from there you will already see the train station, you can't even miss it. It's big and grey and has a clock over the entrance."

"Thank you very much," the little girl beamed and strolled away with a little bit more determination and maturity than it was expected of someone her age.

Kitty stared after her for a while, her heart aching. _My little one could be around her age… perhaps she's just as pretty as this one_. Tears again welled up in her eyes. _You're being silly, Kitty_ – she chided herself, walking up to a newspaper kiosk to buy something to read until the next bus arrived.

Her eyes fell upon the headline of the afternoon paper: '_Deputy Prime Minister's marriage annulled'._

Her heart skipped a beat. With trembling hands, she fished a few coins out of her pocket and paid for the paper.

'_Deputy Prime Minister John Mandrake has had his marriage to the commoner Kathleen Jones annulled,' _she read on the third page._ 'Almost six years ago John Mandrake, the then Minister of Internal Affairs married Kathleen Jones, an infamous ringleader of the Resistance. Although it had started out as a marriage on paper only, the minister and his wife soon fell in love, and Mandrake even broke up with his girlfriend, the magician Jane Farrar for his wife Kathleen. _

_Their happiness seemed to last for about a year, when Mandrake made the catch of his life: he managed to incarcerate the remnants of the Resistance and gained his current position. We're assuming that his wife, a former Resistance member had been unable to forgive him for this, which led to a ruined relationship between the two. Last night – for reasons unknown - Kathleen Jones ran away from home and even left her wedding ring for her husband to find. "Kathleen Jones presumably meant this as a message," the Prime Minister's lawyer, who had the marriage annulled, told us in an interview. "Apparently she didn't want Mr Mandrake to find her, and Mr Mandrake is respecting her wishes like a real gentleman should. However, to remind Kathleen Jones how ungrateful she has been to leave him after him having given her his name and shared his riches with her, the Deputy Prime Minister has decided to make sure that Miss Jones will not inherit a single penny and is no longer entitled to use his name." _

_We can only wonder how the Deputy Prime Minister is feeling about the whole affair, as he was unavailable for an interview. However, we can be absolutely sure that female magicians will be very pleased with the news, as the young, handsome Mr Mandrake is once again the most eligible bachelor in the Empire.'_

Kitty didn't know why she was crying. She really didn't. She wasn't supposed to be crying, John didn't deserve her tears.

She dropped the newspaper into the nearest bin and started walking towards her accommodation. It was quite a distance on foot, but she no longer wished to take the bus. She chose to walk through narrow streets with barely any pedestrians – it was easier to cry when fewer people could see her. After hours of walking, she still didn't understand why she was crying and why she _couldn't stop_ crying. _**I** left him_, she thought. _**I** ended this relationship… so why does it hurt so much that he had the marriage annulled? It's just a formality, after all…_ She shook her head, angry with herself. Although she'd been very mad at John the previous evening and had wanted to leave him for good, something deep in her heart hoped that he'd at least go looking for her. It would have felt nice to know he wanted to find her. But apparently he didn't. _He doesn't love me anymore… it's possible he hasn't loved me for years. What I would give to be as impassive as him and be able to stop loving him…_ But she knew it was too much to wish for. She would undoubtedly love him until the day she died. Him – _Nathaniel_, not John Mandrake.

o o o O O O o o o

Martha had problems buying a ticket. She had looked at the information board at London Waterloo and found out that the train leaving for Feniton departed at two thirty and arrived at Feniton at five forty. Currently she was standing before the ticket window, trying to stand on her tiptoes to be tall enough for the lady sitting behind the window to see her. After a few seconds the lady noticed her and stood up to be able to see her properly.

"Yes, dear? What do you want here?"

"Two singles to Feniton, please – an adult and a child."

The elderly woman raised an eyebrow at her. "And where is that adult, dear?"

"I'm travelling with my mum, but she went to buy sandwiches for the journey," Martha fibbed. She hated fibbing, but sometimes it was necessary. "She gave me money and told me to buy the tickets. You know, she wants me to learn things as early as possible, like buying tickets or milk at the grocery store. She says I need to learn to be indep… sorry, forgot the word."

"Independent?" the woman asked with a smile.

"Yes, that." Martha nodded with a solemn expression.

"Well, your mother is right, one needs to learn to be independent, though you might be a little too young for that... So, two singles to Feniton… fifty five pounds, dear."

It took Martha a while to count the required amount of money as she wasn't familiar with the banknotes and coins, but half an hour later she was sitting on the train, going home.

o o o O O O o o o

Nathaniel arrived home fairly early that day. He could have stayed at Whitehall as he had lots of work to do, but he felt too tired to do anything. He'd care more about work tomorrow.

He had barely slumped into an armchair when someone buzzed the doorbell. _Kitty?_ He thought hopefully, and not even waiting for his demons to answer the door, he ran to open it himself. He saw that his in-laws – correction, his _former_ in-laws – were standing at the gate. _Great. Just great_, he sighed inwardly and walked to the gate to let them in.

"Mr and Mrs Jones…" He beckoned them to enter the house. They walked past him down the garden path without saying a word. Once they were all inside, Nathaniel motioned the couple to sit down in the salon.

"No, thank you, Deputy Prime Minister," Alfred Jones said with a grim expression. "We'd rather stand."

"As you wish," the young man replied, hoping to get this discussion quickly over with. He felt bad enough without having to look at their reproachful faces. "Well, what can I do for you?"

"What can you do for us?" Iris Jones hissed. "Find our daughter!"

"I'm sorry, Mrs Jones, but I can't. First: Kitty doesn't want me to go looking for her, second: I made a promise to the Prime Minister himself that I will not go looking for her."

"So it's true then," Kitty's father said darkly. "Kitty told us months ago, but we didn't want to believe her… she told us that you cared more for the Prime Minister than for her! She told us you were more in love with power than with her! She said she'd tried to make you come to your senses, but all in vain, because your heart was made of stone! Oh, we didn't believe her, we said you were just busy, an _important_ person, but now we see your true self, _Sir_."

"So you've come to tell me what a despicable bastard I am?" Nathaniel sighed. "Then you've come in vain – I already know that. I _am_ a despicable bastard, and don't think I'm proud of myself. Yes, it was me and my love for power that chased Kitty away, and I long for nothing more than to have her back, but she no longer wants me."

"No wonder, if you had the heart to annul that marriage just because you two had a row…" Mr Jones said through gritted teeth.

"If this makes you feel better: I loathe myself for having annulled the marriage. And no matter what the stupid newspapers write about me 'again being the most eligible bachelor', I don't intend to get married ever again. Kitty will always be my wife, in my heart at least."

"You _have_ a heart?" Iris whispered with a sarcastic face.

Nathaniel heaved a sigh. "Listen, Mr and Mrs Jones. Should Kitty return to you some day, tell her I'm not mad at her in the least. Tell her I understand her, and… that I'm sorry. And should she need money, she can ask for it, whenever she wants. She no longer can inherit anything from me if I die before her, but unofficially, I'd be glad to help her out financially."

The woman shook her head. "Our daughter doesn't need your money. All she needed was your love, but you didn't give it to her. At least give her back to _us_! Even if the Prime Minister forbade you, find her! Look for her in secret. I'm sure that the second most powerful man in this country has his means for investigation without others finding out. Sir… we know you have no idea what it is like to have a child and lose her-"

Nathaniel waved to silence the woman. "Spare me, please." At that moment he felt like shouting the Jones's in the eye how wrong they were, that he _knew_ what it was like to be a father and lose his daughter, but he couldn't. He cast his eyes down, examining his shoes. A few seconds of silence ensued, then he spoke up. "I'll see what I can do."

"You'd better," Alfred Jones said. "We respected you once. _Adored_ you. You've disappointed us seriously, Mr Mandrake. Don't disappoint us even more."

Nathaniel knew he could have sent his demons at the couple for their cheek and thrown them into the Tower, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything of the sort. The Jones's were right. He looked his one-time father-in-law in the eye. "I won't disappoint you again. I'll find her and give her back to you. You have my word."

o o o O O O o o o

"Tickets, please."

Martha fished her tickets out of her pocket and handed them to the conductor.

"And who does the other ticket belong to?" The man looked at her curiously. Children of her age usually weren't travelling alone.

"My mum. She's at the toilet right now. Bad diarrhoea."

"Oh, I see. Well then, have a nice journey, young lady."

Martha heaved a sigh. She really, really disliked lying, but she didn't want to wake suspicion, or she'd be taken off the train by some nasty policeman and taken back to her master. Once she was at home, in her own bed and it was time for her evening prayers, she would ask God for forgiveness for having breached a few of the Ten Commandments…

o o o O O O o o o

Soon the Jones's left and Nathaniel thought he'd never felt so lonely in this big house before. True, Enid and Ugli were around, but they were just demons, and quite boring demons at that. Not like Bartimaeus… Nathaniel didn't even know why Bartimaeus came to his mind. Perhaps because he felt his life empty without Kitty, without Martha, without his mother, and even a bit without a demon who talked back to him. Loneliness does weird things to a person, he told himself. He never thought he'd ever miss the quirky replies of Bartimaeus…

He dropped himself into an armchair, his thoughts whirling around Kitty's parents. They had been so desperate, so worried… surely his mother too was desperate to find out what happened to little Martha, and he had completely forgotten about her and her worries. How selfish of him… Poor Esther must be beside herself with worry, not getting any news about her granddaughter…

Too bad the Fenny Bridges orphanage still didn't have a phone installed, nor did either of the matrons have a mobile phone. How much easier it would be to just call Esther and tell her that Martha was alive and well… Though Nathaniel didn't know what he'd tell his mother if she asked where exactly Martha was. But he had to tell her the child was doing fine and hadn't been kidnapped and sold as a slave to Asia. Besides, it would be nice to have a chance to talk to his mother again, he had neglected her so badly…

He'd just drive to Fenny Bridges, tell his mother everything was all right with Martha, perhaps stay a few hours, then return to London by morning. He'd surely be a bit sleepy the next day, but he owed his mother this much.

He hurried upstairs, dressed into his 'commoner clothes' and jumped into his Ford Fiesta. He was completely unaware of the search sphere hovering over his house as he drove away.

o o o O O O o o o

"Martha!" Esther simply couldn't believe her eyes. The little girl was walking towards the orphanage, wearing her favourite red baseball cap, looking tired but cheerful. The woman dropped the hoe she was using in the small garden before the orphanage and ran to meet the little girl. "Oh, dear child!" She closed Martha into her arms, hugging her like a mother bear, showering her face with kisses.

"You're stifling me, Mrs Dawson…"

Tears of joy running down her cheeks, Esther drew back and held the child at arm's length. "Let me see you. You're thinner than ever, have they not fed you well? Whose apprentice have you become? And how come you're back?"

"I'll explain everything," Martha replied with a grin. "Just give me something to eat first. I haven't had any meals since breakfast, and I'm starving."

Her heart filled with relief, Esther led the child into the building where Isabel greeted Martha with 'What, did the magicians not want you as their apprentice after all? I knew it must be a mistake… you, a magician…? Honestly…'

Martha was in too much of a good mood to tell her anything rude in response.

o o o O O O o o o

It was eleven p.m. already when Nathaniel reached Fenny Bridges. As he stopped the engine before the orphanage, he froze. The headlights of his car lit two figures standing before the building: one of them was his mother, whose hands were balled into fists, the other was none other than Jane Farrar, who was apparently shouting at Esther.

Esther shouted something back (Nathaniel wasn't close enough to hear every word, but it was something like 'go away, I'm not giving her back to you ever again!'), which apparently made Jane lose her nerve. She clapped, and a man appeared next to her – Geoffrey, Nathaniel recognised. In the same second a tiny figure burst out of the orphanage, shouting something.

"You little freak you'll get yours!" Nathaniel heard Jane yell at the tiny figure as he got out of the car as quickly as he could. He wasn't quick enough, though, because before he could do anything, Jane clapped again, and a fireball issued from Geoffrey's fingertips, whooshing towards Martha.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: evil cliffie, I knoooooow… ;) And I also know that Martha's extremely precocious. Then again, Nat too was. She just inherited his 'genius'. _shrugs_**

**Reviews are most welcome!**


	21. Nobody's Son

**A/N: I don't remember whose review I replied to and whose I haven't, so I'm thanking everyone who reviewed chapter 20 here: _fikle, Hello, LandUnderWave, XxBlackChaosxX, fredsgurl, Apo, Phoenix, Fredryck, Glitterfrost, Queen Dragon, Mewhoelse, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, . s t o f i 3 ., Musica Diabolos, Gryffon5147, Jardin, Saldaen farmgirl, Lieu Of Flowers, HPLB, My Graffitied Façade, sally, Minish Link, ebtwisty9, allie, uptowngirl48, zippingzephyr, Soccer101_**

**Note to over-sensitive readers: make sure you have a tissue at hand. You might need it. **

**This was a very difficult chapter to write – the only thing I ever wrote that was as sad as this one was More Than Life Itself, my Superman one-shot. Sometimes I just feel the need to write something horribly sad… :(**

**Chapter 21**

**Nobody's Son**

It all happened in a second, yet to Nathaniel it seemed like a slow motion picture: Esther let out a shriek and jumped before the child, the ball of fire hit her in the chest, illuminating her whole body for a few seconds as though she'd been struck by a lightning, then she collapsed like a rag doll…

"Motheeeeeer!" Someone cried, and for a while Nathaniel hadn't even realised it had been him.

"Oops," Jane said with pretended shock. "It was meant for the kid… of course, the kid wouldn't have been damaged so much, as she's young and strong… but perhaps it's better this way. Little Martha has seen what I can do to someone who disobeys me." She clapped, and Geoffrey revealed his original looks – a blue creature with a dozen long arms - and wound his arms tightly around the little girl, who was too shocked to try to get free. She just hung in the demon's grip, her eyes fixed on Mrs Dawson's unmoving form. In the next instant Geoffrey was already carrying her towards his mistress' car.

"Jane…" Nathaniel hissed.

"John." She gave him a grimace and began walking towards her car.

"Don't turn your back on me when I'm talking to you!"

She turned around. "In your place I'd be caring for your mother instead of shouting at me… who knows, this might be your last chance…"

Nathaniel glanced at his daughter who was still staring at the matron's sprawled form over the demon's shoulder. Her huge blue eyes met Nathaniel's for a second, and he thought he saw silent accusation in them, meaning 'why don't you do something, O Mighty Deputy Prime Minister?'

"Son…"

Nathaniel tore his glance away from Martha's to look at Esther. His heart wrenched at the sight of her tormented face. Forgetting about his daughter, Jane, Geoffrey and everything else, he crouched down next to her, taking her head into his lap. "Shhh… don't speak. You'll be fine."

A small, sad smile appeared on the woman's face – a smile that must have taken her great effort to show. "You know I won't."

Somewhere behind him, the door of a car slammed shut and an engine started.

"Why…?" Nathaniel asked. "Why did you do it?" For someone like him, love that was powerful enough to induce self-sacrifice was hardly understandable. First Kitty, now his mother… what were these women thinking, risking their lives for others? He just didn't get it. It wasn't reasonable.

"Why?" Esther whispered. "I lost my children and went through hell because of it. I couldn't… couldn't let you lose yours. Get her… back… from that horrible woman… Martha… my little angel… She escaped from London… So clever… you were just as clever as she is… a child prodigy… I always knew you'd be a great magician some day… to make me proud…"

"I'm not a great magician…" Nathaniel replied, his voice wavering. "And I haven't made you proud. I'm so… so sorry, Mother. Can you ever forgive me?"

Esther reached out with the last vestiges of her strength and squeezed his hand. "It's not me… who has to forgive you… but Kitty and Martha. Get… get them back, Nathaniel. Fame… power… money… it can't make someone happy… you aren't happy, I know… I've seen it in your eyes whenever… whenever you appeared in the TV… But you can be happy, Son. Get your family back… and hold onto them. Nothing else can make you whole."

"But I can't… Jane… she has power over Martha…" Nathaniel held his tears at bay, not allowing them free flow. Not yet, anyway.

"The power she has over her… It's evil power. But love… it's a good power. And you love Martha… don't you?"

"I… I think so," he replied, not sounding very believable, as he himself didn't know what he felt for the child. He didn't even know her at all, how could he love her then?

Esther, however, didn't seem to notice the insecurity in his voice. "Then you will find a way," she said, her voice barely whisper.

"I will, Mother," he whispered back with a sudden, new-found determination. He didn't know where it came from and why, but he felt it all the same. "I will get them back."

The woman squeezed his hand once more. "I know. I believe in you." The hand squeezing Nathaniel's slipped off his.

Nathaniel was no longer holding back his tears.

Jane Farrar was going to pay for this.

o o o O O O o o o

Mary, the younger – and now only – matron of the orphanage left the building a few minutes later with a lit torch, yawning. "What happe-" The word stuck in her throat as her glance fell upon Nathaniel kneeling in the dirt, holding Esther's unmoving form in his arms.

The young man blinked as the torch's light fell upon his face. Mary saw that his eyes were blood-shot and his face tear-soaked.

"What… what happened?" she whispered, crouching down next to him. "Esther? Esther! The doctor, I'll go and fetch the doctor-"

Nathaniel shook his head. "He can no longer help. No one can. My mother is dead."

Mary clutched at her heart. "How did this happen?"

"I'll tell you inside," he said warily, scooping up Esther's body and carrying it into the building.

o o o O O O o o o

Half an hour later everyone in the orphanage was awake and shocked by the tragedy. The orphans were murmuring outside Esther's room.

Once Nathaniel had finished telling Mary the details of Jane's attack, he rose to his feet. "I've got to go now," he said.

"Go?" Mary frowned, glancing at Esther's body lying on her bed. "But… the funeral… aren't you staying…?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "She wouldn't want me to stay. She made me promise something to her before she died. I'm leaving for London to fulfil her last wish. Would you… would you leave me alone with her… just for a minute?"

Mary nodded and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Nathaniel walked over to the bed and bent down, pressing a kiss on Esther's forehead. He shuddered as his lips touched her cold skin. "I hope you knew that… despite everything… I loved you. Love you. I hope… I hope you hear me from above… If you do, then… thank you for everything. Thank you for being such a loving mother to such an ungrateful son. I wish I had told you this while you were alive… but it's too late. I came too late… I wasted all the years I could have spent with you, as your son… I'm so sorry. I let power and fame stand between us, like with Kitty and Martha… but never again. I will keep my promise, whatever it costs. I won't disappoint you again. Rest in peace, Mother."

He walked out of the room, said a quick good-bye to Mary and marched past the pyjama-clad, shocked orphans without giving them a second glance.

o o o O O O o o o

He was already driving down the main road when he realised he'd started crying again. Mad at himself for his weakness, and even madder at himself for his blindness that had made him fail to see the really important things in life, he wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his flannel shirt. He'd cried enough – in this short space of time he'd cried more than in his whole life. It was time to stop weeping. What happened was past him, and what would happen in the future depended on him only. He had to be strong for his family. _Family._ The word sounded weird, unfamiliar even in his mind. It was heart-wrenching to think that just a few days ago he still had a family, albeit a somewhat distant one: a mother, a wife and a daughter. Now he had no mother, no wife, and even his daughter had been taken from him. One usually doesn't realise the real value of things he possesses until he loses them.

He sniffed, blinking back the last tears that wanted to run down his cheeks, and decided to take his mind off his misery, just as long as he reached London. He'd have loads of time to think of a plan there.

He switched on the radio, hoping that it would distract him for a while.

"…_and now, the midnight news_," a lady's voice announced. "_At ten thirty tonight, there was a mass breakout from the Tower – all forty-seven Resistance members have escaped. Deputy Prime Minister John Mandrake is suspected to have assisted them_-"

"What?" Nathaniel gasped.

"_Prime Minister Rupert Deveraux was awoken by the security magicians from the Tower reporting the breakout of the infamous terrorist group. They have placed a recording at the Prime Minister's disposal – a recording that shows the Deputy Prime Minister, wearing baggy clothing rather uncharacteristic of him – punching in the security code_-"

Nathaniel glanced at his clothing – yes, it was baggy, but… he had been at Fenny Bridges, not in the Tower!

"…_the security code known only to the Deputy Prime Minister and his one-time assistant, the current Minister for Internal Affairs, Francis Ffoukes. Mr Ffoukes finds it out of the question that Mr Mandrake could have been the perpetrator, but all the evidence speaks against him. For one, the man on the recording looks exactly like him. You might certainly think it could have been a demon in his form, but how could a demon have known the secret code that was known only to him and Mr Ffoukes?_"

"The memory-wipe," Nathaniel muttered.

"_The Deputy Prime Minister must have planned the breakout thoroughly, but to his misfortune, he didn't know that only two days ago the old camera system was extended with a dozen new cameras that work with a code different from the old system. By having punched in the code, Mandrake thought to have disabled the whole camera system, oblivious to the fact that his code didn't work on the newly installed cameras that eventually recorded him freeing the convicts. 'But what kind of a reason would the Deputy Prime Minister have to assist the Resistance members in escaping?' – you might ask. _

_As we found out from Miss Jessica Whitwell, Mr Mandrake behaved in a rather disturbed way yesterday - he seemed inattentive and left Whitehall hours before he was supposed to, mumbling about feeling tired and having a headache. Miss Whitwell reckons it is possible the betrayal of his wife had gone on Mr Mandrake's nerves. Mrs Mandrake – now again Miss Jones – used to be a member of the Resistance, and her relationship to her husband started to go downhill after her husband managed to round up the Resistance. Yesterday Miss Whitwell heard Mr Mandrake talking about his wife to Mr Ffoukes. In this discussion, the Deputy Prime Minister had said that he'd do anything to get his wife back. And the emphasis here is on 'anything'. The obviously disturbed Mr Mandrake seems to have found releasing the terrorists a good way to win his ex-wife's love back."_

Nathaniel groaned. The world was full of idiots.

"_As we found out from Miss Whitwell, the Prime Minister – albeit with a heavy heart – divested Mr Mandrake of his Parliamentary privilege, at least for the duration of the investigations. While the Prime Minister and a few of his higher-ranking ministers are holding an urgency meeting at Whitehall, the Police are looking for Mandrake. They visited the Deputy Prime Minister's house but apparently he hadn't returned to his home after the Tower incident. They questioned Mandrake's two demons who admitted that their master had left home around six p.m., wearing baggy clothing, just like the man in the recordings. The Prime Minister is hoping that Mr Mandrake soon gives himself up willingly and presents the Police with a sufficient alibi, otherwise Mr Deveraux will be forced to remove him from office. And now, the weather-forecast…"_

Nathaniel turned off the radio, his mind racing. True, he had no alibi. At ten-thirty he had been driving down the main road towards Fenny Bridges with no one around to tell they had seen him. He hadn't even stopped by a petrol station on the way to the village… Come to think of it, he hadn't stopped by a petrol station for ages.

He glanced at the fuel gauge to see that he was running low on petrol. He'd have to stop by the next filling station. And there… He didn't even know how this idea came to him all of a sudden, but it seemed logical. He couldn't go back to London now with no alibi – the magicians wouldn't even listen to him and would throw him into the Tower without a trial. There were quite a few magicians who had been envious of his career for ages, and they'd be only happy to see him behind bars. Ffoukes, the poor chap, had apparently been mind-wiped – whoever had done that to him, had got the secret code and had used it against Nathaniel. The real perpetrator must have sent a demon – preferably a powerful one, an afrit or a marid - to impersonate him. How they had managed to find out what kind of clothes he had worn upon leaving his house, he didn't know, but apparently they _had_ found it out and instructed the demon to appear like him, wearing the exact replica of his current clothing.

From what he'd heard, Deveraux still seemed to be on his side, but sometimes not even the Prime Minister's power was enough to solve certain problems... And in a situation like this, it was expected of Deveraux to 'not afford sentimentality' and deprive him of the Parliamentary privilege. It was a wonder he hadn't dismissed him as his deputy at once. It meant Deveraux still believed, or at least hoped, that he was innocent, but _he_, Nathaniel had to prove it. First, however, he wanted to get his daughter back. Jane wouldn't dare use Martha's name against her, he was sure of it (or at least strongly hoped). She'd been just bluffing when she'd threatened him with that. She would, however, tell the magicians without scruple that he had a forbidden heir, just to discredit him. And, for the time being, he didn't mind getting discredited even more. After the Tower incident, he doubted the revelation that he was a father would do his reputation any more harm.

The petrol station came into view and Nathaniel drove off the road. Sometimes it's hardships that strengthen you, and Nathaniel didn't remember when he'd last felt so strong and determined. He had five tasks to complete: find Kitty, get his daughter back, take revenge on Jane, prove his innocence and catch the real perpetrator. And for all five tasks, he knew just whose help to call upon.

o o o O O O o o o

I felt a familiar tugging at my essence. I tried to resist the feeling, but it was getting stronger and stronger by the second. _Resistance is futile!_ – the sentence ran through my mind. Yeah, I pretty much liked Star Trek, seen a few episodes while spying on the 'lovebirds' in the Mandrake house. Now it seemed to have happened an eternity ago, though I really didn't know how much time had passed since Jane Farrar had dismissed me. After all, we magical entities lose our track of time in the Other Place.

For a second I wondered what form I should assume, and decided for a saber-toothed tiger, just to scare my new master, whoever it was. Besides, I was kind of getting bored of the feathered serpent. Every second spirit these days appeared as a feathered serpent (they must have got the idea from me), so I wanted to try something different. I was unique, after all. I was Bartimaeus of Uruk! Sakhr al-Jinni! N'gorso the Mighty! The Serpent of Silver Pl… well, the latter no longer.

The saber-toothed tiger appeared in the pentacle standing on his hind legs, his claws protruding from his paws in a threatening way, his razor-sharp teeth gnashing, then…

"Meow?" The shock had caused the huge animal to turn into a tiger-cub and let out a very undignified sound. "I mean… _you_?" the cub growled at his master.

The magician before me was Nathaniel. He looked older and thinner than the last time I saw him, had shadows under his eyes and smudges on his cheeks that might have been caused by tears, and his hair was more horrible than ever, but it was undoubtedly him. Not to mention that he was again wearing a farmer's clothing that didn't suit him in the slightest. To put it in a nutshell: he looked crappy. This made me rather cheerful. But my cheerfulness had gone as soon as it had come, because I suddenly remembered what I had done against him under Jane Farrar's orders. In the Other Place I had always found something to distract me from thinking of my guilt, but now as I was again in this world, it attacked me with doubled force.

To hide how embarrassed I was feeling at the moment, I turned into Ptolemy, looking around with a casual expression. I established that the pentacle I was standing in was a rather makeshift one, drawn on a dark blue tiled floor. To my right, there was a dripping tap, to my left, there were two cubicles. Two rather smelly cubicles "Hey, am I right assuming that we're in a public toilet?" I asked with a disgusted face.

Nathaniel glowered at me from behind the curtain of his ridiculously long hair. "What if we are?"

"It means you've either sunk very low or you're in deep shit, Kid. Or both."

His face twitched. "I am. So what?"

"Too bad… You know, normally I'd be happy about your being in deep shit, but as you are my master again, your being in deep shit means _I _will have to lift you out of it, and that is just icky, and-"

"Will you just shut up?" the kid snapped. "My wife left me, my daughter has been kidnapped by my ex-lover, my mother has just died in my arms and the whole of Great Britain thinks I'm a criminal, so don't rile me, Bartimaeus!"

I blinked. "Your mum died? Oh… sorry. She was a nice woman."

The kid frowned. "How do you know? You never met her…"

Oops. In my eagerness to express my sympathy, I let it slip that I had known Esther. I made a grimace and examined my toes that were poking out of my Egyptian sandals.

"How – do – you – know?" the kid repeated, his voice more demanding this time.

I heaved a sigh. I had been expecting this would happen, though I had seriously hoped it wouldn't. Now I could have blackmailed the kid with his name again, but I just couldn't bring myself to. It was possible that the tragedies that had recently happened to him had something to do with me delivering information to the Tramp. And then it had been at least partly my fault.

"Sit down," I told him.

"Sit down? Where?"

"On the ground, on a toilet seat, anywhere."

"I'd rather stand," he replied, his blood-shot eyes glinting defiantly.

Oh well, I had just wanted to make it somewhat easier for him. But if he's as stubborn as a mule, then it's his problem…

"Okay, Kid, it's like this: judging by your current looks, you might be around twenty-five, which means that the Tramp summoned me about six years ago."

"The _Tramp_?" Nat blinked.

"Jane Farrar."

"Oh."

"Why, don't you think she's a tramp?"

"Yes, she is, but… why did she summon you at all?"

I rolled my eyes. "To take revenge on her unfaithful lover. That's you."

The kid blanched. "What… what did she make you do? She surely didn't… You didn't…?"

"Tell her your name?" I made a grimace and looked away. "I didn't want to."

"You didn't want to, and you didn't…?" he asked hopefully. I had to be cruel and dash his hopes.

"Sorry, Kid. She forced me to."

"She forced you?" he hissed, his face still pale but there were rosy patches on his cheeks. His eyes were glinting in a menacing way. I knew this look, and it meant he was on the verge of shouting and tearing his hair. Not that it would have done him much damage if he'd indeed started to tear his hair. He had too much of it anyway. "What do you mean by _forced_?"

"She tortured and almost killed me." I looked directly into his eyes. "I had two choices only: to die or to tell her your name. What would you have done in my place?"

He stared at me for a few seconds, not knowing what to answer. Finally, he shrugged. "I would have betrayed you."

"Oh, good. I mean, _not_ good, but… now at least you can't blame me. Anyone would have done the same."

"Not Kitty," he said quietly.

"Well… yeah. She's a very special girl," I agreed. "You don't deserve someone like her, I hope you know that."

To my surprise, he nodded. "But I _want to_ deserve her, Bartimaeus. I've screwed up too many things and I want to put them right. And you will help me."

"Says who?" I leaned against the tiled wall. "What can you blackmail me with this time? I still know your name, remember?"

He waved. "I doubt if you could cause me more damage than I have already suffered. I've reached the absolute low point in my life, and if that makes you feel happy – I've never felt so horrible before. But it's not about me this time. It's about a promise I made to my dying mother, and a promise I made to Kitty's parents. I will give them their daughter back, and I will give Kitty _her_ daughter back."

"You mean, little Martha? Would you give up on her once she's back with Kitty?"

Nathaniel cast his eyes down. "If Kitty has indeed stopped loving me… if she never wants to come back to me… then yes. I'll do everything to give Martha back to her and I'll let them live happily." He suddenly looked up. "How do you know Martha's name?"

"The same way I know your mother's. The Tramp sent me spying on you and Kitty."

He pursed his lips, and I could almost hear the cogwheels whirring in his head. "When exactly?"

"A few hours before Martha's conception, I'm guessing," I replied with a cheeky grin.

The kid's eyes bulged. "_The shield_! You… were you…?"

I heaved a dramatic sigh. "Yeah. I had to get into the house, and had to disable the shield, and forgot to re-enable it before it was too late… So go ahead and shout at me. It's all my fault."

To my surprise the shout never came. Instead the kid shook his head. "No, Bartimaeus. It's nobody's fault. It was an _accident_ that wasn't supposed to happen, but… I'm glad it did."

I would have sworn I'd seen the ghost of a smile flash across his face. "Had Martha not come into our lives, I wouldn't have had a chance to meet my mother. Although I barely spent any time with my mother, it was enough to make me see the more important things in life. Had Kitty never got pregnant, we would have very likely stayed a happy, enamoured couple for a few months, but my thirst for power would have ruined our relationship anyway. And then, there would have been no one to make me see how stupid I had been. Kitty had tried and tried to make me notice the mistakes I was making, but she failed." He hugged himself and rubbed his arms – no wonder, it was dawn and really cold. "I think… I needed to see my mother die… to realise that I had been going down the wrong path for years." He sniffed, and I was sure he was trying to keep his tears at bay. "When we found out about Martha's arrival… I thought it was the worst thing that could happen to me. I thought it was a curse. But I met her just two days ago. She's… she's so much like Kitty, Bartimaeus… She's supposed to be a blessing, not a curse."

"You know, Kid, I never thought I'd ever hear the voice of reason from you, but I'm delighted it happened. I must admit I was really mad at you when you forced Kitty to move to the back of beyond and risk her and the baby's life… and I was even angrier when you left her at Christmas to give a stupid speech in London."

Again the same, embarrassed smile flashed across his face. "Don't even mention it. Say, Bartimaeus… how long exactly were you spying on us, and how much did you see?"

"I kept spying on you until your kid was born, then I had to deliver her name to the Tramp-"

"Aha!" Nathaniel breathed. "So that's how she found out about me having a child!"

"…as for how much I had seen…" I continued as though he hadn't interrupted so rudely, "I saw just enough to lose my appetite for ever watching erotic movies in the future."

The kid blushed furiously. "Did you see… _everything_?"

"Pretty much, yes. Though sometimes, when it was completely dark in your room, I just _heard _things. Mostly about horses."

If it was possible to blush even more, the kid managed it. His face was pinker than a baboon's backside, and that's saying something.

"I didn't want to embarrass you… _you_ asked what I'd seen, I just replied." I shrugged. "Listen here, Kid. I might be faulty and I might not – it doesn't matter, but I want to get back on that Jane Farrar just as much as you do. Because I expect you _do_?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped. "Jane killed my mother and tore our daughter from Kitty and me! Though… I don't think she has anything to do with the Tower incident…"

"What Tower incident?" I looked politely confused.

Nathaniel leaned against a cubicle door. He looked very tired all of a sudden. "Apparently, a few hours ago someone released a bunch of convicts from the Tower and they think it was me."

"You? But you were here all along… weren't you?" I looked at him with a suspicious expression.

"No, not here, in Fenny Bridges," he grunted. "You don't seriously think I'd be foolish enough to release the Resistance once I had them behind bars?"

"The Resistance? You mean, _the same Resistance_ that Kitty had been a part of?"

"Yeah."

"_You sent her buddies into prison?_"

"Yes!" He banged his fists angrily into the door, which resulted in the door opening and him falling into the cubicle, barely missing the toilet itself. What a pity. After what I had just heard from him, I thought he would have deserved it. Oh well, one can't have every wish fulfilled…

"Are you going to stay sitting there, O Master Mine?" I asked as he was struggling to stand up from the slippery tile floor. I seriously didn't know what had made it slippery… hopefully only the leaking cistern.

"Give me a hand," he hissed.

I detached my hand from my arm and tossed it into his lap. "Here."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

I bent down to pick my hand up and put it into its place. "I was just trying to lighten your dark mood. Not that you deserve it… but do tell me more about this Tower incident."

I pulled him up and he summarised the newscast he'd heard at midnight.

"Sounds bad," I said.

"I know. Can you help?"

"You're the brains, buddy. You make up things, I pull them off."

"Right." He nodded, looking determined. "Problem is… I don't yet know how we'll do it. I'll make up something. But first I want you to go and find a black Renault heading towards London, very likely on main road A30. It must be around halfway between Fenny Bridges and London. Jane and her demon Geoffrey are holding my daughter captive in that car. I want you to free her and bring her to me. Better, bring Jane too. And make sure Jane can't mutter any spells. Gag her or something. And be quick. As long as they're on the main road, Jane can't summon any more formidable demons than Geoffrey, and Geoffrey isn't that great, just a second level djinni, a piece of cake for you."

I must admit, that was quite flattering. Sometimes it felt good to hear things like that, and my ego seriously needed some boosting after the latest Jane Farrar affair. "What shall I do with this Geoffrey?"

"Dunno. Eat him."

"Ew."

"Don't be choosy."

"I'm not choosy, I just have a good taste."

"How do you know that Geoffrey _isn't_ to your taste?" Nathaniel grinned.

I wrinkled my nose. The kid was getting irritating again. I could have blackmailed him to dismiss me at once, yes. But I didn't have the heart. I wasn't helping him for _him_. I was doing it for Kitty and little Martha. And to get my personal revenge on the Tramp.

o o o O O O o o o

"Sir…"

Deveraux was too deeply immersed in discussing the night's events with a dozen ministers to notice the unfortunate commoner servant who had politely tried to draw the Prime Minister's attention to himself.

"Sir… Mr Deveraux, Sir…?"

"What?" The Prime Minister barked at the servant. He was usually a good-natured, calm person who never snapped at anyone and never showed if he was agitated, but the apparent betrayal of his deputy whom he'd regarded as a son, had shaken him enough to make him snappish.

"There… there is a lady outside, Sir, who wishes to talk to you."

"A lady?" Deveraux arched an eyebrow at the frightened commoner. "Who?"

"She says her name is Kathleen Jones, Sir."

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty couldn't have explained why she'd come to Whitehall. She could as easily have stayed at 'home' and gone back to sleep. Problem was that she couldn't go back to sleep. She had awoken shortly before midnight and as she walked into the tiny kitchenette to fill a glass with water, she heard the television from the adjacent room. She hadn't been paying attention at first, but when the name 'Mandrake' was mentioned, she got interested and started to listen to the midnight news properly. When she'd heard what those idiots were accusing Nathaniel of, she decided she had to do something.

And now, here she was, standing before the door beyond which the Prime Minister and a select few ministers were having a meeting, talking about her husband. _Ex-husband_, she reminded herself. She hadn't yet got used to not being Nathaniel's wife any longer. Despite the fact that they hadn't been intimate with each other for five years, it had been somehow natural for Kitty that she was his wife; that they belonged together. It was hard to accept it was over, even if it had been her who'd left him in the end.

"The Prime Minister is waiting for you, Miss." The servant who had announced her arrival, led her into a medium-sized, richly decorated room whose floor was marble and whose walls were almost completely covered with enormous mirrors, perhaps to make the room look bigger. There was a round table at the middle and several rows of seats around, but none of the ministers were sitting – Deveraux himself was pacing up and down, fervently explaining something to Jessica Whitwell.

As he noticed Kitty, he stopped in his stride and seemed to have forgotten whatever he had been explaining to Nathaniel's one-time master.

"Miss Jones." He forced a smile on his face. "To what do I owe the honour…?"

"Mr Deveraux." Kitty nodded her head, unwilling to bow as most commoners did to the Prime Minister. "I've come to talk to you about John."

"I suspected as much." Deveraux said with a benign expression. Kitty thought she saw the glimmer of hope in the man's eyes – the hope that John hadn't betrayed him and Kitty was about to prove it. "Do you know about your hus… I mean, Mr Mandrake's whereabouts?"

"No, Sir. But I'm sure he didn't do it. He wouldn't do such a thing."

"And what makes you think that?" Miss Whitwell asked coldly.

"I know him, Sir," Kitty continued, deliberately talking to the Prime Minister only, ignoring Whitwell and the rest of the ministers (who, to Kitty's knowledge, had all been envious of the progress of Nathaniel's career). "He might still love me as the newscast said, but he's no fool. He wouldn't free anyone from the Tower, not even if he knew that would make me happy. Besides, he has proved me enough times that he doesn't love me enough to risk his hide in any respect. John is a man of reason and rationality and doesn't let emotions control him. He never did. That was why I left him in the end."

"And what makes you think he didn't want to prove you that, for your love, he'd still let his emotions take over?" an old minister whose name Kitty had forgotten asked with a rather malicious expression.

These people were enjoying the opportunity to speak ill of Nathaniel, Kitty realised. "Because my hus… ex-husband doesn't know what emotions are," she replied, her eyes returning to the Prime Minister. "He's cold and impassive and wouldn't start to play a modern Robin Hood just to prove his undying love to a woman whom he doesn't even know where to find. Be sensible, Sir…" She looked around with a determined face, "You all, be sensible! He wouldn't do such a thing! _He didn't do it_!"

Deveraux shook his head with an indulgent smile. "You're saying John's a man without emotions, and yet, you love him so much that you come here to shout at the leaders of the Empire. There has to be something emotional about John if he managed to wake feelings like that in you, don't you think, dear?"

Kitty's eyes narrowed. "So, you're still suspecting him?"

"I never said I did," the Prime Minister replied. "Innocent until proven guilty. But I fear, too many things speak for his guilt."

"I can't believe it…" Kitty whispered. "This is all a conspiracy! Don't you see it, Sir? Someone wants to frame John! To destroy his reputation out of… I don't know, envy, thirst of power, or…"

"Enough, Miss Jones," Deveraux said calmly but determinedly.

She shook her head. "You're making a huge mistake."

"Then I will suffer the consequences."

"All right, Sir. But I hope I'll be there to see you apologising to John," Kitty said through gritted teeth. "Good-bye."

"Er… Miss Jones?" the Prime Minister called after her.

"Yes?"

"You _will_ be there to see it – whether the apology or something else, time will tell. Until then, be my guest."

Kitty knitted her eyebrows. "Your guest… or your prisoner?"

Deveraux heaved a sigh. "Let's say… a guest who isn't allowed to leave." He clapped, and two of his afrits appeared at once. "Lead Miss Jones to my office. Give her anything she needs, but make sure she stays there."

Kitty sent the Prime Minister a withering glance as the afrits showed her the way towards her new 'golden cage'. In her eagerness to help her undeserving husband, (_ex_-husband, she corrected herself), she had given his enemies a bait to lure Nathaniel into the trap.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: okay, I admit Esther was created in order to be killed. Cruel, isn't it? **

**This reminds me… doesn't Nat resemble Anakin Skywalker in many respects? Once I got the idea of writing a little essay as to why Nat reminded me of Anakin. Now I'm copy-pasting it here, in case you're interested.**

**The parallels between the two characters:**

Both of them have very poor parents. **Anakin**'s mum is a slave on Tatooine, and he doesn't even have a proper father (only the Force, LOL). **Nathaniel**'s parents are presumably commoners who needed money so much that they sold their own child. Sold boys – from a certain point of view, both are slaves.

**Anakin**'s talents aren't appreciated by anyone on Tatooine – that's why he needs to build a racing pod in secret. Watto and Sebulba (and even his little friends in Mos Espa) laugh at his ambitions to be a pod racer. **Nathaniel** knows that if he learns only what his master Arthur Underwood lets him, then he will never become a proper magician, so he starts studying more complicated things in secret. Underwood thinks he's untalented and keeps telling him so, humiliating him all the time.

**Anakin** swears revenge on the Tuskens who killed his mother and he kills them all. **Nathaniel** swears revenge on Simon Lovelace who killed Mrs Underwood, the only woman he ever considered a mother-figure (and in my fic, Nat swears revenge on Jane who killed his mum). In the Amulet of Samarkand, Nat doesn't kill Lovelace with his own hands, but contributes to his death, so he does get his revenge.

**Anakin** destroys the enemy at the end of movie one, and this deed earns him the right to become a Jedi apprentice. **Nathaniel** destroys the enemy at the end of book one, and this earns him the right to get a proper master (Jessica Whitwell) who actually _teaches_ him magic and lets his talents develop.

In movie two, **Anakin** already shows certain signs of megalomania: he thinks Obi-Wan and the rest of the Jedi masters are envious of his powers and that's why they're constantly forbidding him things. **Nathaniel** starts to show signs in megalomania in book one already, but in book two it's even more obvious.

**Anakin** becomes the youngest member of the Jedi Council. **Nathaniel** becomes the youngest Minister ever and the youngest member of Deveraux's Council.

In movie two, **Anakin** starts down the dark path but only turns evil in movie three. **Nathaniel** starts down 'the dark path' in book two, but at the beginning of book three (so I heard, after all, I haven't yet read book three), he's even nastier than in book two.

**Anakin** falls in love with Padme but never has a chance to be really happy with her because she dies. **Nathaniel** in book three is sort of falling for Kitty (at least I heard so), but never has a chance to be happy with her because _he_ dies.

**Anakin** redeems himself by saving Luke and killing the Emperor. He sacrifices himself for the greater good. **Nathaniel** redeems himself by saving Bartimaeus and overall whole London (this is again something that I only heard from people who've read the third book), kills the demon Nouda and sacrifices himself for the greater good.

**End of essay.**

**So, well – your thoughts on chapter 21? Shout at me, if you want. That means: review! ;)**


	22. Of Sith and Jedi

**A/N: finally, Ptolemy's Gate has been published in Hungary! Am currently reading it.**

**Review responses sent out as usual, hope you got them (if not, then it was ffnet's fault).**

**Also thanks to: _fiklefriend, Sally, TheWatcherandReader, LandUnderWave, Queen Dragon, Aiko Moonchild, Glitara Keladry Sophia, allie, Phoenix, xav, Apo, Minish Link, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, Gryffon5147, InuMewMew, I-Love-Escapest-Fantasy_**

**In this chapter, my eternal love for Star Wars resurfaces. You know I simply _can't_ write a fic without mentioning something StarWars-y in it? ;)**

**Chapter 22**

**Of Sith and Jedi**

We left the public toilet and I established that we were at a petrol station.

"That's my car," Nat said, pointing at a grey Ford Fiesta parked nearby. "Memorise its looks and bring Martha and Jane to me before I reach London. Just appear on the A30 main road and make sure I notice you and that others don't. I don't want anyone to think you're trying to thumb a lift with a tied up Jane. I'll slow down with the car and you can get in. I have a map in the car, have a look at it to make sure you don't get lost."

"I don't usually get lost," I replied in a slightly hurt voice. The mere assumption was insulting. "Say, Kid, did _you_ put that search sphere above your car?"

"The what?" Nathaniel blinked.

"I expected as much. Then someone else has sent one after you. No wonder you didn't notice, it isn't visible on the first three planes."

"So that's how they found out about my clothing," the kid muttered, his eyes distant, a contemplative expression on his face. "They must've been following me around for a while… Bartimaeus, this simplifies things so much! We only have to catch the imp that is used in the sphere and question it. Perhaps torture it a bit if it doesn't want to reveal who sent it."

"Okay, Kid, I'm on it," I said and turning into my vicious gargoyle form, I began running towards the kid's car and lunged at the imp hovering over it.

Somewhat later I looked up at Nathaniel's slightly worried face. I felt as dizzy and torn as though something had exploded into my face. "You okay?" the kid asked.

"S'pose so," I replied. "What the heck happened?"

"The imp exploded as soon as you jumped on it," he replied. "It was a self-destructive one."

"Self-destructive demons? Never heard of the sort…"

"I have." The kid made a face. "Years and years ago, I looked into my master's notes."

"Which master?" I groaned, massaging my temples. "Underwood or Whitwell?"

"Whitwell. She's been working on new spells for decades but she never really told anyone in case they might find her activities illegal or dangerous… One of the spells she wanted to develop was a spell to make your demons destroy themselves even from great distances. Like a remote control. You just push the button and the object explodes."

"Hey, you're talking about magical entities here!" I grunted. I never liked it when people talked about us as 'objects' without feelings. We did have feelings. For example, at the moment I was filled with various emotions: I hated Jane Farrar, I was slightly disgusted by Nathaniel (just as much as always), I felt sorry for Kitty and Martha and I was sad about Esther's death. See, I'm a very complex personality!

"Whatever." The kid waved. "The point is that I have a good reason to think that it was Whitwell who sent the sphere after me. And it's very likely that she was the one – or one of those – who made a demon assume my form and free the prisoners."

"But why would your ex-master do such a thing?"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Envy. She has envied my talents from the moment I became her apprentice. She wanted to look the perfect master as long as I was helping her career, but when the Golem incident came, she turned her back on me because it seemed I was losing face. She no longer had any reason to support me. Then, when I managed to round up the Golem-"

"When _we_ managed to round up the Golem," I reminded him.

"Yeah, okay, so when we managed to round up the Golem, she was again very eager to be friendly with me, but I saw through her. That was the point where her career started to go downhill. She lost the Prime Minister's trust and she was no longer in charge of the Tower. All her duties were passed to me. I expect she wasn't happy at all when I became Deveraux's deputy…"

"What?" I gasped. "You – Deputy Prime Minister?" I laughed out loud. "Tell me you're joking! Deveraux couldn't have been so foolish as to appoint someone as green as you!"

Nathaniel glowered at me. "I _am_ the Deputy PM. And I'm not green. I've been in politics since fourteen and-"

"Okay, keep your hair on." I waved. "Give me that map."

The kid opened the car door and fished a map out of the glove compartment. "Here."

I studied it for a few minutes, then chucked it back at Nat. "Memorised it. Now I'm off to kidnap your kid from her kidnapper. And if I get stomach ache after I've eaten Geoffrey and start to vomit in your car, then don't blame me."

With that, I disappeared.

o o o O O O o o o

Martha was staring out of the Renault's window, deliberately not looking at her master. She was still in shock, although they had left Fenny Bridges over two hours before. She felt like crying, felt like accusing that evil Miss Farrar for having hurt poor Mrs Dawson, but she found that she couldn't utter a single word, nor could she shed any tears. Two feelings raged in her soul: worry for the matron and hatred for her master. She also wondered why that 'cute' Deputy Prime Minister had appeared in Fenny Bridges at all… And hadn't he screamed 'mother!' when Mrs Dawson had collapsed? Could he be Mrs Dawson's son? If yes, then why hadn't he ever visited her before? And why hadn't Mrs Dawson told anyone that she was the Deputy Prime Minister's mum?

"How long before we reach London?" Jane asked her demon.

"About an hour, Madam," Geoffrey replied.

Their words shook Martha out of her reverie – after they had left the village, none of them had uttered a single word, the only noise had been the soft murmur of the car's engine, and now it scared her to hear someone's voice. What scared her even more was that, in the next instant, a huge something jumped on the car's bonnet.

Geoffrey got so frightened that he jerked the steering wheel to left, sending the car off the main road. Thankfully the road was on the same level as the grass verge, so the Renault and its passengers didn't suffer any harm. Had they been driving in a mountainous area, they wouldn't have been this lucky. Geoffrey still couldn't call himself lucky, because the attacker jerked him out of the car as though he were nothing but a puppet. Jane Farrar shouted something at her demon in a language Martha didn't understand, and Geoffrey seemed to be trying to comply with her orders, putting up a struggle, but the attacker was stronger, quicker and cleverer. At least Martha seriously hoped it was. Not that she liked the idea of getting attacked by a huge and nasty demon, but at least she'd have a chance to get away from her master.

She cast a sideways glance at Miss Farrar who was staring at the fight outside. She seemed deeply immersed in rooting for Geoffrey…

Martha pushed the door handle as carefully and silently as possible, and slid out of the car. As soon as she got a few steps away from the Renault, she broke into a run.

"Wait!" Miss Farrar's voice screamed. Apparently she had noticed Martha's escape. Martha decided she wouldn't wait. The further she got away from the car and from the road, the more she got engulfed in darkness. She tripped over a stone and fell, then got up, wincing, and started to run again. Suddenly something jumped on her from behind and knocked her off her feet. The attacker didn't feel big and heavy, so it must have been a smaller demon, perhaps an imp or a sprite. Martha had seen her master summon smaller demons once in a while for smaller tasks when Geoffrey was busy with something else. The child had seen an imp appear for Miss Farrar just the day before. This must be the same imp, she decided. And an imp wasn't really dangerous. She knew, she'd read about it in a book she'd found left on the living room table. Normally Miss Farrar had shut her things away from the child, but she surely hadn't thought this one was dangerous to leave lying around. Perhaps she didn't even know Martha knew how to read yet.

"Hold her down!" Miss Farrar's voice shouted to the invisible demon sitting on the child's back. Martha gathered all her strength and rolled onto her back in the hope of crushing the demon under her.

The demon struggled, trying to get out from under the child. Martha felt a surge of magic course through her – the imp must have ejected it to make her jump off it, but it wasn't unpleasant in the least. It tickled a bit, but that was all. She kept valiantly fighting to flatten the imp that again sent a shot of magic at her – a shot that equalled an electric shock. Martha again felt nothing but a tingle. In the next instant, something big caught her and lifted her off the ground.

"Hey, making a pancake of that poor imp?" the Big Thing That Had Lifted Her Off The Ground said in an amused voice. "Nice show, Kid. Bet you have at least a partial resistance to magic. But tell you what, you can't resist _me_. I will still transport you to my master."

"Y…your master?" Martha muttered. She knew she was supposed to be afraid of the Big Thing, but the Big Thing's voice had sounded too friendly to be evil. "Miss Farrar?"

"Farrar?" The Big Thing laughed. "Nope. Farrar had only two demons: the one you've almost completely flattened and that Geoffrey whom I've just eaten. Mind you, he wasn't that tasty. Too salty."

"You've eaten my master's demon?" Martha made big eyes.

"Had to," the demon said, beginning to walk back towards the Renault, leaving the unfortunate, half-flattened imp groaning in the grass. "The kid instructed me to."

"The kid?" Martha frowned. Was this demon's master a child like her? She couldn't imagine that.

"Uh-huh. But most know him as John Mandrake."

"The Deputy Prime Minister?" the child gasped.

"Yeah. He sent me to kidnap you from the Tramp. I mean, Miss Farrar."

"Hey, that's cool! But what about the Tr… I mean, my master?"

"Don't worry about her," the demon replied, and with a few big strides he stopped next to the car. "See, she's all right."

Next to the car, Martha saw Jane's figure lying in the grass, her arms and legs tied together and her mouth gagged.

"I found some ropes in the car's boot," the demon holding Martha explained cheerfully. "Came in handy. And now, hold on tight to me, young lady. We're leaving." With that, he picked up Miss Farrar's disabled body, and vanished from the spot, leaving the Renault alone, to the spare parts-dealers' delight.

o o o O O O o o o

I appeared on the main road A30, about fifty kilometres from London. I was sure the kid couldn't have reached there yet, so I must have got there in time. There were tall lamps on both sides of the road. I stood with my charges under one of them to make sure the kid would spot us.

It was half past two in the morning, therefore barely any traffic. Whenever a car that wasn't Nat's passed by us (about one every ten minutes), I turned into a bush, hiding Martha and the gagged Tramp in my leaves. I can be really resourceful, you know. Martha was thoroughly enjoying the show I was putting on, and after the third time I changed into a bush, she was actually encouraging me to try newer and newer bush types. So I had to do a bramble, a hazelnut and wild rose. (Martha hid _behind_ me when I performed the latter, but Jane Farrar wasn't that fortunate – she was hidden in the bush itself. When I turned back into a gargoyle to wave at the grey Ford Fiesta driven by none other than the kid, the Tramp looked like a hedgehog, thorns sticking out of her at random places. I enjoyed looking at her at that moment.)

Nathaniel stopped the car and opened the door. "Glad to see you in one piece, Bartimaeus. I told you Geoffrey was a pushover."

I made a grimace. "He tasted bad. Besides, what you made me do was cannibalism. Next time you go and eat a minister, and we'll see whether you like his taste or not." The kid rolled his eyes. "What shall I do with the Tramp?" I asked, swinging Jane Farrar a bit. She was currently hanging from my shoulder, showing Nathaniel her thorn-sprinkled backside.

The kid shrugged. "Put her into the boot. Make sure she gets fresh air but she can't kick the boot open or let anyone see her."

"Mmmmmhhhh," Jane commented as I unceremoniously dumped her into the boot.

"I agree," I told her cheerfully and slammed the lid of the boot shut.

Upon returning to the front of the car, I saw that Martha was still standing outside, not sure what to do. She appeared to be eyeing the kid and the kid seemed to be too mesmerised by the sight of her to notice that I had completed my task in temporarily getting rid of Miss Farrar. "Hey, anybody home?" I waved my hand before Nathaniel's eyes.

This seemed to shake him out of his dream-like state. "Uh, yes. Come, sit in the back seat." He gestured to Martha. The child looked at me, as if waiting for encouragement.

"Go on, do as he said. He means you no harm."

"I know that," she said, slipping into the Ford and dropping herself onto the back seat. "He saved me from my master's beating the day before yesterday. And he saved me from my master again. Thank you, Mr Deputy Prime Minister."

Nat turned around in the driver's seat, and despite the fact that the only light was provided by the lamp outside and various buttons on the dashboard, I thought I saw him blush. "You're… you're welcome," he said, quickly turning around and starting the engine.

I changed into Ptolemy and took a place on the passenger seat. "And now?"

"We're going to drive to London and leave the car somewhere on the outskirts," Nathaniel explained. "Better, I'm going to park on the outskirts, and you go get me new clothes. Something less baggy, but it doesn't need to be a suit. You may as well get me a pair of sunglasses."

"So, you're going into hiding?" I asked.

He made a grimace. "Just for a while. I don't want anyone to recognise me while I'm investigating. I only want to stand before Deveraux when I already have proof that this whole madness was done by Whitwell. _If_ it was done by Whitwell at all. You might also get me a false number plate and exchange it for this one. I'm sure the Police are already looking for this car. Once you have the new clothes and number plate, we drive to that old library-"

"It still exists?" I interjected.

"Yes. Deveraux has plans for it, though. He wants to get it levelled and a new shopping mall built there. But so far, it's intact."

"As much as a ruin like that can be called intact," I remarked. "So, will that be our headquarters once again?"

"Not really. I just want somewhere to hide until you go for Ffoukes and bring him there."

"That bag of bones chap? I saw him at the Halloween ball all those years ago…"

"Yes, that's him."

"But why should I go and fetch him?"

Nathaniel bit into his lower lip. "Because… he's the only one from the government whom I more or less trust. I want to ask him to take in the child for as long as it takes to prove my innocence."

I glanced at Martha. She seemed alert and interested in every word we were saying. "But… why Ffoukes? Why not take her to her grandp-"

The kid rudely kicked me in the shin with his spare leg that wasn't on the accelerator. Apparently he didn't want Martha to find out about her grandparents – not yet, anyway. "She wouldn't be safe there," he said through gritted teeth. "I need a _magician_ to guard her."

"Can't… can't I go with you, Mr Deputy Prime Minister?" the child's voice called from the back seat. "I promise to be a good girl and won't be under foot."

Nathaniel glanced at his daughter over his shoulder and I saw a small smile on his face. "It's not that you're under foot, it's just… you're a child. And I'm not risking a child's life. My mission might be dangerous. I'm fighting against evil magicians, and you know just how evil some magicians can be, right?"

The child wrinkled her nose. At that moment she resembled Nathaniel a lot. "Well, Miss Farrar is evil enough…"

"The ones I'm facing now might be even eviler," the kid explained to her.

"Oh." Martha commented, stifling a yawn. For the next five minutes no one spoke, and soon I realised that the soft, rhythmical breathing coming from the back seat meant that Martha had fallen asleep. No wonder, she must have felt horribly tired. Poor little one, so young and had to go through so much already, thanks to Nathaniel's egotism. Had he accepted her as his child when she was born, she wouldn't have had to go through hell at the age of five. I felt like returning the kick-in-the-shin I had recently received from the kid. But I held back. I didn't want Nat to cry out in pain and wake up sweet little Martha.

There was a blanket rolled up next to her on the back seat. I reached over the headrest of my seat, unrolled the blanket and covered her with it, feeling all fatherly all of a sudden. (Mind you, this was a new feeling for me; I had never yet taken care of such a young child).

Nathaniel saw was I was doing, but didn't comment.

"You know," I said when I sat back properly into my seat, "it's you who should have done it."

"I'm _driving_ in case you haven't noticed," he grunted.

"I'm not talking about _now_," I replied coldly. "I'm talking about those five years you missed of her life. Those five years _she_ missed you from her life."

"If you're trying to stir up my conscience, then spare your efforts. I've had pangs of remorse ever since she was conceived."

I gave the kid an incredulous glance. "And why did you have pangs of remorse? Because you insisted on that horsy thing?"

Nathaniel blinked. "What?"

"You know, the horsy thing. '_Ride me, Kitty!_'. That was when she was conceived, wasn't it?"

The kid rolled his eyes. "I'd be grateful if you didn't keep reminding me of your voyeurism. And no, I'm not feeling guilty because I fathered her."

I glanced back at the child and she didn't seem to have heard a single word. A five-year old couldn't be a good enough actress to pretend to be asleep. "Then?" I pressed. "Why are you feeling guilty then?"

"You know that," Nathaniel muttered, avoiding my glance.

"No, I don't." I wanted to hear it from him. And no, not because I wanted to embarrass him, but because I wanted him to say it aloud. Sometimes people don't admit their feelings to themselves until they say it aloud. It's psychology.

The kid glowered at me. "I told you already. In the toilet. I screwed things up and want to put them right."

"But what exactly did you screw up?" I asked if I hadn't known it well enough.

"My life. Kitty's life. My mother's. Martha's. Heck, even Jane's."

"And why?"

"You know why, Bartimaeus!" he snapped.

"Shhhh!" I pressed my index finger on my mouth, pointing at the peacefully sleeping child. "Quieter. So, why did you screw up everyone's life?"

The kid gave me a dark glance. "Will you leave me alone with the madness?"

"No, as long as you don't reply. Say it, Nathaniel."

He pursed his lips, looking away, his eyes once again fixed on the motorway. "Because I was too proud and too selfish," he whispered, more to the steering wheel than to me. But he'd said it at last.

"Right there you are, kid." I nodded agreeably.

He glanced at me. "But I can't change, Bartimaeus. I might win this battle and give Martha back to Kitty, Kitty back to her parents and give people back their trust in me, but… what can I do with _myself_? What should I do, Bartimaeus?"

"That's something only you can know. But you've come a long way already, admitting your mistakes and deciding to make amends. You have taken the first few steps, and I'm sure your heart will tell you where to end your journey, which path to choose when you reach the crossroads. And who knows? Kitty and Martha might be there with you to walk down the path you've chosen. But only if you choose the right one."

He shook his head. "How will I know the right one? My whole life's been a huge mistake!"

"In the toilet, you said your mother's death made you see your mistakes. What do you think _she_ would advise you?"

"I don't know… She only said… Her last words were that she… _believed in me_."

"Then the only thing you have to do is believe in yourself." I friendlily patted him on the shoulder. "Well… not the only. There's one more thing."

"What?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Your hair."

"What's your problem with my hair again?"

"If you want to change your appearance, you've got to get rid of those long ebony locks, Snow White."

Nat gave me a withering glance, and neither of us spoke until a board labelled 'London 30 miles' loomed into sight.

o o o O O O o o o

The kid parked his Ford in Chertsey around four in the morning. Martha was still happily dozing when I went on a 'shopping spree'. As it was so early in the morning with no shops open to steal things from, I had to nick a few pieces of clothing from honest commoners' homes. They never noticed I entered, rummaged through their wardrobes and left. I must admit I was tempted to bring the kid a beautiful, flowery summer dress (after all, he'd said he wanted something less baggy, but he never specifically said he wanted _male_ clothing…) but when I imagined his hairy legs poking out from the skirt, I decided it was a bad idea. I feared I would be reacquainted with Geoffrey if I actually saw Nat like that…

On my way back from the commoner's house, I saw a pretty Mercedes parked nearby. I looked around to check that no one saw me, and with one deliberate tug, relieved it of its number plates. To not wake suspicion at once, I attached Nat's Ford Fiesta's in its place. If the car's owner is dumb enough, he won't notice the change for weeks. Unless he gets arrested because the Police believe he is the wanted Deputy Prime Minister.

When I arrived back at the Ford, I attached the new number plates to its front and back, then peered into the interior. An amazing sight greeted me. Nathaniel sat turned around in his seat, his jaw propped on the headrest. _He was watching his daughter sleep. _Now imagine that. Nathaniel, the cold hearted git, watching a child sleep, and smiling to himself. Smiling, gently and proudly. No, I haven't hit my head and haven't drunk anything either. I wasn't imagining it. _Nathaniel was being fatherly_. Wow.

"Let me express my opinion," I said, making Nat jump, "that the young lady on the back seat is the best thing you've ever made in your life."

The kid gave me a lopsided grin. "I don't know why, but… I was thinking the same."

I dumped the freshly nicked things into the Ford. "Here, change. I promise I won't look. Not that I haven't seen you without clothes… but before you change, let me take care of your hair."

"Do you really think it's necessary?" The kid wrinkled his nose. He didn't seem a bit happy about the prospect of losing his girly locks.

"Yes."

He heaved a sigh. "Then do it quick. And be careful, I don't want you to cut my ears off or something."

"Don't worry, Kid, you're in the best hands. I have been hairdresser to several important personalities, from Pharaoh Kufu to Katherine the Great. They never complained. Get out of the car."

"Why?"

I rolled my eyes. "I don't expect you want hair all over the driver's seat?"

"Oh," the kid said, looking somewhat slow on the uptake. It must have been due to his lack of sleep.

I made the kid sit on the Ford's bonnet and pulled the pair of scissors that I had 'borrowed' on my 'shopping spree', out of my pocket.

"Are you sure you have enough light to see what you're doing?" Nathaniel asked in a worried voice.

"We djinn can see well in the darkness, unlike you pathetic humans," I replied in a condescending tone. "Now stay put or I still might cut your ear off."

As long, black locks fell on his shoulders and into his lap, the kid made a suffering face as though I had been a dentist pulling out his teeth without anaesthetic.

"There, ready. Have a look at yourself in the wing mirror. I'm making some light for you."

I changed into a torch as the kid got off the bonnet to examine himself in said mirror. I did an outstanding job. His hair wasn't too short, but much shorter than it had been before. For one, his fringe no longer hid half of his face like a curtain (I was sure he'd soon realise the advantages of being able to see with both eyes), and the ends of his hair on the sides of his face reached just beyond the lowest point of his ears. It was still somewhat longer than a decent hairdo should be, but at least looked like a male. "Well?" the torch asked.

"Not bad," came the reluctant answer.

"Not bad? Is all that you can say to a Genius Hairdresser?"

Nat snorted and pulled his shirt off then got into the car to continue undressing there. He quickly changed into the dark blue trousers and maroon turtle neck jumper I had chosen for him. "What about the sunglasses?" he demanded.

"Sorry, I couldn't get you anything better than this." I handed him a pair of black-rimmed, round glasses. "Not real glasses, I found them among a child's toy stethoscopes. I expect he must have been using it to play doctors and nurses."

The kid put the spectacles on, grimacing as he examined his looks in the rearview mirror. "Horrible," he commented.

"I think you look like Harry Potter now," a sleepy voice called from the back seat. "I like it."

Nathaniel turned around to look at his yawning daughter. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a few minutes," Martha replied, rubbing her eyes. "I woke when the demon was giving you a haircut… at least I think that was what he was doing. I couldn't see properly, it was dark. But I like your hair a lot. You look like a boy now, not a girl."

"Well, that is some praise," I laughed at Nat. "By the way, kid," I turned to Martha, "call me Bartimaeus. 'Demon' is so degrading."

o o o O O O o o o

They reached London just before daybreak. Nathaniel had been right to expect the air to be teeming with search spheres – no doubt the Police were looking for him. However, they were looking for a car with a different number plate and a driver wearing a flannel shirt, long hair and no glasses. The young man behind the steering wheel looked like a comic version of Harry Potter, and not one search sphere found him suspicious. Especially as there was a child sitting on the back seat. The Deputy Prime Minister didn't have children…

Nathaniel parked the Ford near the library, but far away enough to not wake suspicion. He didn't want to risk parking right before the shabby building.

He and Martha had to take a five-minute walk to get to the library. Nathaniel thought it was a wonder the building hadn't yet collapsed, it seemed in such a bad condition. For a second it ran through his mind that it was not a good idea taking a child into a building that might collapse any second, but he tried to calm himself. _If it hasn't collapsed yet, it won't collapse right now._

"We'll be waiting for Bartimaeus here," he said once they reached the second floor. He put a blanket he'd brought from the car on the floor. He flopped down on it and removed his ridiculous glasses. "Come, sit down."

The child cocked her head, staring at him. "Mrs Dawson said we weren't supposed to sit down next to strangers, especially those who offer us candy."

"But I'm not offering you candy. And you've sat in my car already," Nathaniel reminded her. "I didn't harm you, did I?"

She shook her head. "Well… perhaps Mrs Dawson was wrong and not all strangers are bad… Er… Mr Deputy Prime Minister?"

"Yes?"

"What happened to Mrs Dawson? Miss Farrar took me away too quick and all I saw was that she collapsed… but she's healed, hasn't she? She's just been knocked out, right?"

As he looked into his daughter's eyes and saw the glimmer of hope in them, Nathaniel felt an invisible hand compressing his gullet. He didn't want to dash her hopes, but he didn't want to lie to her either. "I'm sorry, but… she's no longer with us."

Martha knitted her eyebrows. "She was taken to hospital then?"

Nathaniel bit into his lower lip. This was harder than he'd expected. "No, dear. She's dead."

"No." Martha shook her head, her long, wavy black hair flipping around her. "She can't be! She can't… Noooo…" Before she knew, she burst into tears.

Nathaniel didn't know what to do. He had never been close to a crying child. He had no idea how a mother or father was supposed to make their child stop sobbing. So he just acted on instinct. He got up from the blanket, walked to Martha and wrapped her in his arms. "Shhh… it's okay. She's… she's an angel now, in heaven, and she's looking down at you, taking care of you. She wouldn't want you to cry for her."

Martha looked up with tear-soaked face. "A…are you sure?"

"Yes, dear. I knew her to be like that."

She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Oh, really. I heard you shouting 'mother' to her. Was she really your mother?"

"Yes." Nathaniel pulled a tissue out of his pocket. He simply couldn't watch people wipe their noses on their sleeves. Not that he hadn't done the same as a child… "Here."

Martha took the tissue and blew her nose with trumpeting noises. "If… if she was your mum, then why didn't you ever visit her?"

Nathaniel heaved a sigh. He could have said 'for political reasons', 'to not wake suspicion' or 'to keep you safe', but he caught himself giving the simplest reply and the one closest to the truth. "Because I was a jerk."

Martha's eyes widened. "Really? Can a Deputy Prime Minister be a jerk?"

Nathaniel's mouth tucked into a small smile. "Yes, Martha, unfortunately he can."

The child gasped. "You _know_ my name?"

Nathaniel's smile widened. "Of course I do. _I_ gave it to you. I am your father."

"I bet you got that rubbish from Star Wars," Martha said with a frown.

The young man felt an urge to laugh. "No, but it's true." He sent her a grin. "Search your feelings. You know it be true."

She grinned back. "Bet your favourite character is Darth Vader. Mine is Princess Leia."

"Leia is Vader's daughter. You are mine."

"But… but how? I don't understand."

"You know, that tale about the stork… it's not true. You need a man and a woman who love each other to-"

"I know that," Martha said with a grimace. "I read it in a biology book. Behind Mrs Dawson's back, of course… she wouldn't have let me read anything of the sort… Wait… if Mrs Dawson was your mum and you're my dad, then was she my… grandma?"

"Yes, she was." Nathaniel put an arm around his daughter. "And she loved you so much that she sacrificed herself to save you."

The child's lips started to tremble again. "I don't want her to be dead!"

"I know, sweetie…" Nathaniel pulled her into a tighter embrace, "neither do I."

They sat back down and remained like that for minutes: Martha crying, Nathaniel absentmindedly stroking her hair, wondering what it would have been like to have her around for the past five years… to hug her, play with her, lull her into sleep… He'd missed out so much. And even if he managed to prove his innocence, he might lose her again. The magician society would never accept him with an heir. It was forbidden. But could he live without her anymore?

He shuddered at this thought. _Heavens, what's happening to me? I have lived without her for five years and never missed her… oh well, perhaps sometimes… a bit_.

"Mr Deput… I mean… Dad," Martha said, looking up, "who's my mum?"

As her deep blue eyes bored into his, and tears were rolling down her Kitty-like face, Nathaniel felt lost. No, he decided, he couldn't let her go, ever again. "Your mum… her name is Kitty. Kathleen for real, but everyone calls her Kitty."

"Is she nice?"

"Very nice. She's beautiful and clever, and fiery… you're a lot like her."

"And why isn't she here with us now? And why has she never come to see me? Or you? Why did I have to be in the orphanage when I wasn't an orphan?"

Nathaniel felt as though a rhino had suddenly sat on his chest. Of course, he had been expecting this question, and he intended to tell her some day, but… how could he explain such serious matters to a five-year-old? True, Martha had proved to be intelligent beyond her years, but she was still too young… she wouldn't understand. _**What** wouldn't she understand?_ – a nasty voice spoke up in Nathaniel's mind. _That you cared more for your position than for your family? That you felt **ashamed **of her existence and hid her from the world?_

He swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. "Your mum isn't here with us now, because she left me. And she had a good reason to leave me." Seeing the child's confusion, he took a deep breath. "I… I was really nasty to her. And I'm not a bit proud of it… I wish I could change it back, but… what happened is behind us. She left me, and I can understand her. To help you understand the situation… let's say that I was a bit like Darth Vader. I wanted power, and your mother didn't approve of it. Remember, Padme too disapproved when her husband started down the path to the Dark Side."

Martha nodded. "But you can't use the Force, can you?"

Nathaniel fought back a chuckle. "No, but I can use magic. We magicians are a bit like the Jedi… and a bit like the Sith. We resemble the Sith in one thing: we crave power and we can be ruthless. We have one thing in common with the Jedi: we aren't allowed to have children. When your mum told me she was expecting you, I was scared, Martha. I knew it was forbidden. And I knew I had to hide you."

"To protect me, like Obi-Wan hid Luke and Leia to protect them?"

Nathaniel bit into his lower lip and looked away, not being able to stand her stare. "Er… not exactly. _You_ weren't in danger. _I_ was. My _career_ was. I hid you from the world to not lose my power and status, and this turned your mum against me… I can't blame her, really. And I can't blame you either if you're mad at me for this. I'm a bad father."

As he stared at the wooden floor, he felt a warm little something touch his hand. It was Martha's hand.

"It's okay, Daddy," the little girl said with a smile, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze. "Everyone makes mistakes. I too did. I put slugs into Isabel's bed. I know I shouldn't have… does that make me like a Sith?"

Nathaniel reached out with his spare hand and ruffled the child's hair. "No. You're too warm-hearted for that. You're my little Jedi."

"Can a Jedi kiss her daddy?"

"Well, it's unheard-of… but there's a first time for everything," Nathaniel said, bending down, offering his cheek to Martha. She gave him a smacking kiss, then pointed at her own cheek.

"Your turn, Daddy."

Nathaniel had never kissed a child before. Actually, the only people he remembered to have kissed were Jane and Kitty. And he'd usually kissed them on the lips. This 'innocent peck' was something new to him. But it felt nice.

"Uhhh, Daddy, you're pricking!" Martha wrinkled her nose.

"Sorry. I don't have my razor with me." Nathaniel said with an apologetic glance. "Maybe Bartimaeus will get me one."

"Get you what?" the djinni's voice called from the corridor.

Nathaniel hopped up from the blanket and hurried out to meet the djinni and the person he hoped was with Bartimaeus.

"Get you what?" the djinni repeated.

"A razor."

"Sorry, it never occurred to me to get you one… but I've got you some food." Bartimaeus pushed a baguette into Nathaniel's hand and entered the room with a sandwich for Martha.

As the djinni disappeared from the corridor, Nathaniel heard a wheezing breathing that meant someone was climbing the stairs. He let out a relieved sigh at the sight of his panting friend. "Ffoukes. Thanks for coming."

"John? What is this madness? And what happened to your hair?"

"My hair? Uh, tell you later."

"You didn't release those convicts, did you?"

"Of course not. I was occupied elsewhere when the fake-John set the Resistance free."

Foukes knitted his eyebrows. "Where did you hear about the whole thing then?"

"On the radio, in my car."

"What were you doing last night? Looking for Kitty?"

"No. Why?"

Ffoukes made a face. "Because you don't need to look for Kitty any longer. She's at the Whitehall."

Nathaniel's eyebrows ran high, disappearing behind his fringe. "What is she doing there?"

A small smile appeared on the older magician's face. "She went there to shout at Deveraux and everyone that they were idiots if they thought you did it. She might have left you, but she still loves you, that much is clear. Problem is that Deveraux is holding her captive there now and is planning to lure you to Whitehall, using her. He was going to announce Kitty's night time visit at the Palace on the morning and the midday news, hoping you'd hear and go there just to see her, because…" he made a grimace, "forgive me to say this, but everyone in the government thinks your losing your wife made you go crazy…"

"Yeah, I've heard," Nathaniel sighed. "But I can assure you I'm in perfect mental health. I love Kitty, but I wouldn't do anything crazy for her. And I'm not going to Whitehall. I want to catch the real culprit first, and for that, I need your help."

"What can I do for you, John?"

"Ffoukes, do you remember when almost six years ago, I told you that Kitty was having lung problems and had to spend a few months in the country?"

"Yes."

"Well…" Nathaniel ran a hand through his now much shorter locks, "I lied. Kitty wasn't ill, but…" He began walking towards the door that led into the room in which Martha was now having breakfast. "Kitty and I… we… sort of… had an accident." He beckoned to his friend to the open door. The little girl stood next to Bartimaeus and waved at him, her face smeared with ketchup. "Ffoukes, this is my daughter."

"Your… what?"

Nathaniel walked up to Martha and put a hand on her shoulder. "My daughter."

"And _my apprentice_," a cold female voice spoke up from behind the shocked Ffoukes.

Nathaniel froze. In the doorway, right behind the magician, stood Jane Farrar, looking livid, the fire of madness blazing in her eyes. With hands that were covered with dozens of nasty cuts, she held a gun to Ffoukes's nape. "If you move," she hissed to her one-time lover, "your friend dies, _Nathaniel_."

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: er… review, please? ;)**


	23. As Long As Mine Hate For Thee Liveth

**A/N: again, I don't remember whose review I've replied to and whose I haven't, so I'm thanking everyone here who reviewed chapter 22: _fikle friend, Glitara Keladry Sophia, Glitterfrost, LandUnderWave, Aiko Moonchild, zippingzephyr, Jardin, Hello, Fredryck, uptowngirl48, Raine's Tears, Musica Diabolos, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, RoseFae, scrot-nig (er… huh?), phoenixstrike, Queen Dragon, XxBlackChaosxX, hollie-short, allie, Mewhoelse, Scarfia, blargh_**

**Chapter 23**

**As Long As Mine Hate For Thee Liveth**

"N…Nathaniel?" Ffoukes muttered, his voice wavering. After all, he had a gun pressed to his head. "Who's that?"

"What? He's your best friend and you never told him your real name?" Jane's nasty voice asked from behind. "Tsk-tsk, John…"

Ffoukes glanced at Nathaniel who appeared to be somewhat embarrassed. "Nathaniel? Er… nice name. Sounds really... noble."

"Thanks, Ffoukes," Nathaniel replied with a grimace. His daughter shifted under his hands and that was only when he realised that he must have been grasping her shoulders so tight that it caused her pain. He released her, glancing down at her. She looked somewhat frightened, but braver than the average five-year-old would. The average five-year-old would have burst into tears and shouted 'I don't wanna go back to Miss Farrar!', but his daughter was eyeing her master calmly. The only sign of her nervousness was that she was chewing her lower lip.

Nathaniel gently but encouragingly squeezed the little girl's shoulder, then took a step towards his friend and ex-lover. "How did you escape from the car, Jane? And how did you get here?" he asked, knowing that he had to engage Jane's attention to give Bartimaeus a chance to act.

The woman's green eyes flashed at the djinni, sending him the message 'I'm keeping an eye on you, so don't even think of anything funny'. "Well…" she replied, "in the past few years I got in the habit of keeping a knife in one of my boots, and a tiny gun in the other. Of course, only when I'm wearing boots. Too bad I can't wear them for parties as well… I got so used to them that I feel horribly unprotected, almost _naked _without my weapons. Anyway, when I got out of the car's boot, I realised you had parked it near the library you have used twice before…"

Nathaniel made a grimace. He really should have kept silent about his adventures in this library, but all those years ago when he'd been Jane's boyfriend it never occurred to him that his lover would once use such a petty, unimportant piece of information against him.

"So, that was how you cut your wrists so bad," Nathaniel observed. "You must have bungled quite a bit with the knife to cut your ropes. Especially with your hands tied _behind_ your back… But I have to give it to you, you did it very cleverly."

A cold smile appeared on the woman's face. "Why, thank you, John. It's been ages since you praised me for something… Why, the last time must have been when you had your way with me on my office table…"

Nathaniel's eyebrows knitted. "Don't mention such things before the child."

"Oh, are you afraid of corrupting her?" Jane sneered. "I bet she's corrupted enough already. Being your daughter, she couldn't _not_ be."

"What does 'corrupted' mean?" Martha asked her father.

"It… it's like how Vader used to be," Nathaniel explained.

"Oh," Martha said. "Then you're wrong, Miss Farrar. I'm not like that. Daddy told me I was like a Jedi, not a Sith. I think it's you who are like a Sith."

Jane blinked. "What is the little brat talking about?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Nathaniel almost let out a laugh. He loved his daughter's style. She managed to be outspoken while still looking and sounding innocent.

"Never mind, Jane." The young Minister waved. "You wouldn't understand. It's something called _culture_." For a second he thought he heard Ffoukes snort in the futile attempt to fight down a guffaw. Nathaniel couldn't help but adore his friend's ability for seeing the humorous side of things, even with a gun held to his head. Nathaniel wasn't sure he'd manage to be this casual in a similar situation, but he knew he had to act as if he did, so he sent his friend a grin.

"I wouldn't be grinning in your place," Jane hissed.

"Why not?" Nathaniel crossed his arms. "You're just trying to threaten us, it's all a play. But we aren't afraid, are we Ffoukes?"

The older Minister gave him a vague smile. He seemed to be sweating. "'Course not, John. Miss Farrar wouldn't kill a Minister if she doesn't want to face trial and life imprisonment in the Tower."

"That's what I was thinking too." The younger man nodded, looking very laid-back with his hands stuck into his pockets.

"Don't be that cocky, _Nathaniel_," Jane replied nastily. "You can't win this battle."

"What battle?" the young man asked. "What do you _want_, Jane?"

"My apprentice."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you want to train my daughter so badly."

She glowered at him. "Of course I don't. I just want to keep her out of your reach, to make you miserable. Not that you aren't miserable enough without that… Things aren't succeeding for you these days, are they, John?"

The young father frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, just… things. Like… losing your daughter, your wife, your mother, half the country thinking you're a criminal-"

"Now wait a minute!" Nathaniel cut in. "How do you know about this… criminal thing? Do you have anything to do with it?"

Jane heaved a dramatic sigh. "I just passed by a newspaper kiosk on my way here from your car and saw the headline of _The Times_, it was all about you. And no, I wasn't in it, though I wish I were. I can only congratulate to those who framed you, whoever they are. Come to think of it… I _might_ have contributed to it somehow…" A dreamy smile spread on her face. Seeing Nathaniel's confused expression, her smile widened. "_Rack of Retribution_. Does it ring a bell?"

Nathaniel blanched. "You didn't."

"Oh, yes, I did."

"What?" Ffoukes blinked, looking hopelessly confused.

"It's a curse. One of the worst," Nathaniel replied with a sour expression.

"Even worse than Imhotep's?" Bartimaeus interjected, looking curious.

"Huh?" Everyone else replied.

"You know, Imhotep. The guy seduced the pharaoh's wife and got shut in a coffin with a hundred scarab beetles… alive. The pharaoh's priests cursed him to remain alive even in a completely rotten body and scare anyone to death if they tried to raid his tomb."

"But that's just a movie," Nathaniel said impatiently. He wasn't in the mood for listening to Bartimaeus' idiotic stories when Jane was terrorising them.

"A movie?" The djinni raised an eyebrow at him. "I never knew there was a movie like this… but if there was, then it was based on a true story. Why, my then master forced me to turn into a fake priest, and I was one of those who dumped the unfortunate fellow into his sarcophagus. One of my least pleasant memories. I threw up after it. So, is your curse as bad as this?"

"Er… I hope not… but bad enough," Nathaniel replied uncertainly.

"Oh, it's definitely bad enough, dear," Jane laughed, and Nathaniel was sure he saw madness blazing in her eyes. Suddenly she stopped laughing and her features hardened. She pressed the gun even firmer to Ffoukes's nape. "Enough of the niceties, Johnny. Hand over the child, and I won't harm your friend. And you, demon, don't even think of moving."

"I haven't been planning to." Bartimaeus shrugged with an innocent expression.

"Don't do it, John," Ffoukes said through gritted teeth. "She wouldn't dare kill me."

"I think she would, because she's really evil," a little voice spoke up. Every eye focused on Martha. "She killed my granny and she'd kill you too," she continued, looking at Ffoukes, and marched past her dumbfounded father to her master. "Don't kill Daddy's friend, Miss Farrar. I'm going with you."

Nathaniel stared at his daughter unblinkingly, and for the first time in his life, even Bartimaeus was rendered speechless.

With one swift move, Jane grabbed the child, held the gun to her head and started dragging her away from the paralysed Ffoukes.

"Jane, wait!" Nathaniel finally found his voice and ran after his ex-lover and daughter, onto the corridor.

The woman halted and turned around, the gun firmly pressed to Martha's nape. "Good that you reminded me, John… I will need transport. Throw me your car keys, and no funny tricks! I want them in my hand, not on the floor."

Nathaniel suppressed a groan. Even though she seemed to have gone crazy in the past few hours (being turned into a hedgehog by a rose bush and being shut into a car's boot does that to some people), she still had enough sense to think of the advantages that a fallen set of keys would give her opponents. After all, if the keys landed on the floor, she'd have to bend down, and that one second she used for bending down might be enough for the djinni to disable her.

Nathaniel pulled his set of keys out of his pocket and tossed them at Jane who caught them skilfully in mid-air.

"Do tell," he said, "where do you intend to go? What do you intend to do? You might kidnap my daughter, but where will you go after that? My innocence will be proved within a few days if not quicker, and you will be thrown into the Tower. If you flee, I will send a hundred search spheres and the whole British Police after you. Do you want to spend the rest of your life hiding? Is it worth, Jane? Is it worth leaving the luxury of your home? Is it worth giving up your well-paid job? Is it worth discrediting yourself before the whole British magician society? Would you do all that just to take revenge on me?"

The woman's eyes narrowed as she took a step backwards, dragging the child with her. "I hate you enough to give up everything I hold dear."

Nathaniel shook his head. "You have gone mad, Jane. This isn't the real you. The real Jane is just as evil as you are now, but she is also comfort-loving and power-hungry… the real Jane wouldn't throw everything out the window just to hurt her ex-lover. You may have ruined my life, but I'm still willing to help you. Release the child, and I swear I won't give you up to the Police. Neither will Ffoukes. Right, Ffoukes?" He sent his friend a meaningful glance.

"Of course." The older man nodded eagerly.

"You have no grounds to give me up to the Police," Miss Farrar hissed, slowly moving backwards. The floor creaked dangerously under her feet. "I have a _right_ to have the child with me! She's my apprentice, and that's official!"

"I know." Nathaniel nodded, forcing his voice to continue sounding calm. "However, no magician is entitled to threaten his apprentice – or a fellow magician – with a gun. Drop that gun, Jane, and you will suffer no harm, I promise. You will get help."

"_Help?_" Jane's hand holding the gun shook. "You mean… a lunatic asylum? I'm not mad, John!" Her face was red and she was practically shouting as she kept retreating. "You might prove your innocence to the world, but you can't do anything against me! I know your name and I know your daughter's name, remember? You can't harm me, NATHANIEL!"

In the next instant the floorboard under her feet gave way with an almighty creak. The old library had finally decided it had had enough. Bartimaeus lurched forward and caught Martha as the floorboard disappeared from under Jane's feet and yanked the child away from the hole that had appeared in the floor.

His breath held, Nathaniel carefully stepped to the edge of the hole and glanced down. On the floor below lay Jane in a sprawled position, the gun still held firmly in her hand. Her mouth hung open with her last scream and the eyes that had bulged in fright were now staring up at him emptily. "_I _didn't harm you, Jane," Nathaniel muttered. "Your own evilness killed you." He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Bartimaeus with Martha in his arms.

"I feel bad I couldn't kill her personally," the djinni said solemnly, "but at least I managed to torment her a bit before she died. You know, with the thorns." He winked at Nathaniel who reached for the child and took her from Bartimaeus. Martha clung to her father, burying her face in his shoulder. She wasn't crying, but Nathaniel suspected she was on the verge of tears. If it weren't for Bartimaeus's hyper-quick reflexes, she'd be dead. Nathaniel felt a lump rise in his throat, and not because Jane was lying dead on the floor below, but because he realised he'd almost lost his daughter for good. Just a few days ago he couldn't imagine his life _with_ a child, now he couldn't imagine it _without_ it.

Rubbing the little girl's back in a way he hoped was soothing and comforting, Nathaniel looked away from the djinni, trying to hide the fact that tears had welled up in his eyes. "Thank you, Bartimaeus," he muttered into thin air.

"You're welcome, Kid," the djinni replied from behind him. "Oh, and be sure to blow your nose, O Master Mine. I hated seeing you wiping it on your shirtsleeves…"

Nathaniel felt an urge to roll his eyes. "That was thirteen years ago, Bartimaeus." Apparently he hadn't managed to hide his tears from the djinni and apparently the djinni hadn't turned any more tactful since he'd last summoned him. For some reason, Nathaniel didn't mind Bartimaeus' tactlessness. It was sort of amusing.

Suddenly Martha looked up at him with a curious expression. "Did you too wipe your nose on your sleeves?"

Nathaniel nodded with an embarrassed look, making Ffoukes and Bartimaeus chuckle.

"Like father like daughter, eh?" Ffoukes said, walking up to the hole to have a look at the dead Jane. "She wasn't very lucky, huh? Speaking of misfortune, what was that curse you were talking about?"

"The Rack of Retribution?" Nathaniel asked as he walked back into the room and placed Martha on the blanket.

The older magician nodded. "I never heard of it. What does it do?"

"As far as I know, you need to know the person's birth name in order to use it on him, and the curse makes him horribly unlucky."

"Are you horribly unlucky? Poor Daddy, that totally sucks," Martha said with a compassionate look, giving her father's hand a squeeze.

"Actually… I _used to_ be horribly unlucky, and yes, it _sucked_," Nathaniel replied, grinning at his daughter's vocabulary that very much reminded him of Kitty's in her teenage years. They had the same temper and the same style. He could barely wait to introduce mother and daughter to each other… "However, the Rack of Retribution is a curse that only works as long as its caster's hatred for its victim lives. Jane has just died, and with her died my misfortune. At least, I hope so."

"Hmm… sounds good, but if I were in your place, I would still wave at the magpies," Bartimaeus commented. "So do tell, Master Mine, what are your plans now that your misfortune is no more?"

Nathaniel turned to Ffoukes. "I have a good idea who could have framed me. Bartimaeus and I will find evidence and only go to Whitehall when we can prove our suspicion. I asked you to come here for two reasons. One: when I sent Bartimaeus for you, Jane was still alive and her existence was a threat to my daughter, so I wanted to place her under professional magical care – yours. I don't trust any other magician enough to ask them to take care of my child."

Ffoukes sent the little girl a smile. "It would be an honour to have the young lady in my home."

"Thanks, Ffoukes. Though, now that Jane is dead, I don't want to saddle you with having to look after her. I could take her to her grandparents…"

"I _have_ grandparents?" Martha chimed in, sounding surprised. "But… my granny died."

"I meant your maternal grandparents. Kitty's mother and father."

"I'd love to go to them!" Martha said enthusiastically. "It would be so cool to have a granny and grandpa!"

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Ffoukes asked. "Whoever wants to do you in, they might strike at your relatives."

"They don't know I have a child. And they might even strike at _you_," Nathaniel replied. "Everyone knows you're my friend. But you're right… I think my daughter would be safer with you than with the Jones's. The second reason why I asked you to come here is that I think I know how they found out about the secret code to the Tower's security system."

"How?" The older man frowned.

"You told them."

"Me? I'd never-"

Nathaniel held up a hand. "I know you wouldn't. The memory relapse."

The older minister's eyes widened. "Oh. You think they forced me to tell them the information then wiped my memories. Sounds logical."

"Do you remember who you were talking to at that party?"

The Minister for Internal Affairs scratched his jaw, thinking. "Well, I did talk to the Prime Minister… but I doubt he'd want to get rid of you, he's practically in love with you, John."

"Yeah, he might propose now that you're a bachelor again…" Bartimaeus interjected. His reward was a piercing look from his master.

"Did you talk to Whitwell?" Nathaniel asked Ffoukes.

"Yes, I did, but just briefly. She was at the party with that chap Jenkins."

"Clive Jenkins," Nathaniel muttered. "Of course. Another person who's hated me since I was fourteen. I made him make photocopies all day…" He made a grimace. "I too would have hated me if I were in his place… Anyone else you found suspicious? Did you see Whitwell or Jenkins talk to someone else?"

"Well, I clearly remember Miss Farrar's disappointed face when Miss Whitwell asked her partner, Arnold Callaghan for a dance…" Ffoukes smirked. "I didn't understand why Callaghan would leave such a beauty for such a bag of bones. Whitwell is anything but pretty…"

"Don't even remind me, I once had the misfortune of seeing her naked." Nathaniel wrinkled his nose. "It was kind of inevitable, having to live in her house for two years… I was violently sick. I still shudder at the memory."

"Why, was she so ugly?" Martha asked.

"Er… yes." The young man blushed slightly. For a few seconds he'd forgotten he was talking in front of a child.

"You know, you've again managed to surprise me," Bartimaeus interjected. "When you last summoned me, you seemed to be completely unaware of the fairer sex, Nat. I was firmly of the belief that you'd die of fright if I appeared for you as a naked woman…"

"Bartimaeus, may I remind you that we're talking in front of a five-year-old?"

"But Daddy, I'm not that stupid, I know how these things are," Martha said with a serious expression. "I told you I read about it in a book…"

Bartimaeus laughed. "Little Miss Know-It-All. Reminds me of her Daddy. You too seemed to know everything better than others… but I bet you didn't know about sex at the age of five."

Nathaniel gave his djinni a withering glance and turned back to Ffoukes. "I suspect that Whitwell had something to do with framing me. Jenkins also had grounds to hate me. As for Callaghan… I don't know. He's Jane's boyfriend, but Jane said she wasn't in it. Why would _he_ want to harm me?"

Ffoukes shrugged. "Perhaps he dislikes you because Jane disliked you? I don't know. He might have nothing to do with it. And do tell, what makes you think _Whitwell_ has anything to do with it?"

Nathaniel quickly summarised the self-destructive demon's story.

"And, what do you intend to do now?" The Minister of Internal Affairs wondered. "How will you prove it was Whitwell – _if_ it was her at all?"

"We will break into her house, and find her notes on her illegal spell experiments," Nathaniel said matter-of-factly.

"And do tell, O Master Mine," Bartimaeus spoke up, "how are you going to prove to all the bigheaded politicians that you have actually _seen_ a self-destructive demon?"

"Easily," Nathaniel replied. "There's a spell that can detect magical activities even days after they happened. For example, if I cast this spell on you, it will show that an imp has recently exploded in your face."

"You mean it can detect the… um… particles of said imp?" The djinni in his Ptolemy form wrinkled his nose, his dark face screwed up with disgust.

Nathaniel shrugged. "Yes."

"Is that like Priori Incantatem?" Martha interjected.

"What?" The three males glanced down at her.

"You know, Priori Incantatem, in Harry Potter, book four. It's a spell that forces the wand to show the last spells it had accomplished. It's a shame its explanation was left out of the movie, but I read the book."

Ffoukes raised an eyebrow at the child. "A five-year-old who can read, and not only Harry Potter but biology books as well… and who knows that babies aren't gifts from the stork… I'm amazed to say the least."

Martha beamed at him proudly. "It's because I'm precocious!"

Ffoukes couldn't hold back a chuckle. "An interesting little girl you have, John."

"Yeah, I know," Nathaniel replied, looking rather smug. By every passing minute he spent together with Martha he got more and more proud of her. She had inherited her mother's disrespectful but courageous nature and his pride and exceptional intelligence. She was simply _perfect_. "But back to the imp," he carried on, "if I perform the spell in front of all those 'bigheaded politicians', I will have evidence that such a thing has happened to Bartimaeus and if I have evidence that Whitwell has indeed experimented with such spells, then her guilt is proven."

"I wouldn't be so sure in your place," Ffoukes commented. "This all sounds great, but Whitwell can play really dirty. I bet she'll find a way to talk herself out of it."

"Not if we find some other things in her home as well… things we can use against her," Nathaniel said confidently. "I know where she keeps her things and I have no doubt we will manage to access them."

"By 'we', I expect you mean you and I," Bartimaeus grunted.

The young man sent his demon a lopsided grin. "Who else? We're a good team together, aren't we?"

The djinni made a face. "Well, I've had worse masters… like the dead lady on the floor below… I mean, dead _Tramp_."

"I'm glad you think I'm a better master than Jane was." Nathaniel smirked.

"Just don't get smug," Bartimaeus replied. "I mean, don't get smug_ger_. Not that one could get even smugger than you are now…"

Nathaniel's eyes flashed. "And you make sure you don't get more irritating! Not that one could get even more irritating than you are now."

Ffoukes chuckled. "You two indeed seem to be an excellent team. Just don't kill each other before you complete this mission."

Nathaniel's lips twitched as if he were holding in a smile. "Don't give Bartimaeus ideas."

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty was staring out the window of her luxury prison, Deveraux's office at Whitehall. She had been kept here for several hours. Deveraux had his personal toilet next to his office, so Kitty didn't need to ask the guards to let her out of the office to visit the loo. At six in the morning she was brought a sandwich and a glass of mineral water. She tried to ask questions from the servant who had brought her the food but he wasn't willing to answer any of them. Apparently, Deveraux wanted to keep her in the dark.

Taking the sandwich into her hands, she wondered what Nathaniel could be doing right now. He surely wouldn't be foolish enough to give himself up just because _she _was here?

She took a bite then put the sandwich down. She simply didn't feel hungry, even though it had been over sixteen hours that she'd last eaten.

'_There has to be something emotional about John if he managed to wake feelings like that in you, don't you think, dear?'_ – the Prime Minister's words echoed in her mind. Life was so unfair. She didn't want to love Nathaniel. She really didn't. She should have been happy to be rid of him and shouldn't have come to try to help him… but she still did come here in the hope of helping him, because she still loved him.

_He just doesn't deserve my love, _she told herself, angry at the tears that had welled up in her eyes._ He's a jerk, an insensitive git, a stuck-up, egoistic, power-hungry arsehole, not to mention a horrible father! He doesn't love anyone or anything, not even our daughter or his mother… **only me**_. She wiped her eyes. _But does he **really** love me? _Something deep in her heart told her that he did, that he'd never stopped loving her, no matter what an evil git he had become in the past five years.

Kitty fished a tissue out of her jeans pocket and blew her nose. _No_, she swore. _I won't go soft. Even if he returns and turns out to be innocent and pleads with me to go back to him, I won't. I made that mistake once when I ran into his arms after the Jeremy incident. I won't make the same mistake twice._

She sank into an armchair, and let fatigue take over her. The last tear was still rolling down her cheek when she was already asleep, dreaming about happiness she'd never have with Nathaniel.

o o o O O O o o o

We were sitting in the kid's Ford, driving towards Miss Whitwell's house after his friend had taken Martha with himself to place her under the care of Mrs Ffoukes and their demon (correction: magical entity. Remind me to not call my fellows 'demons'. Not one magical entity deserves that name. Well, perhaps only Faquarl.)

The kid himself was again wearing those horribly Harry Potterish spectacles. Just to annoy him, I turned into Professor Snape. The London streets were still quite deserted, but there were three young women who, when spotting me, started to point and shout 'Aaaaah, Alan Rickman!' (In case you're wondering how I knew what Professor Snape looked like… Well, Kitty was a Potter fan and she used to watch the Potter movies in the Mandrake house before Nat so unkindly forced her to leave for Fenny Bridges. I, being bored with my spy job, usually joined her before the TV set in the form of various insects. I must admit I've become a bit of a McGonagall fan myself. Er… don't ask.)

Staring out the window, I was wondering why I was doing this at all. I had only agreed to help the kid to take revenge on the Tramp and to save little Martha. Martha was safe now and the Tramp wasn't very dangerous in her current state. Oh, before I forget – you might wonder what happened to her body. Well, on our way from the library to the car, we stopped by a telephone box and I called the morgue. I quote:

'Hallo, Morgue?'

'Yeah, who's speaking?'

'It's me.'

'Who?'

'You don't wanna know, trust me. I'm a homeless chap and wanted to spend the night in the library under 5. Red Lion Square and guess what I found there.'

'Er… books?'

'It's a ruin, you moron,' I replied. 'A ruin 'bout to be levelled, so there are no books. Anyway, there was this chick on the floor. Dead. She was clutchin' a gun surely to kill herself but she didn't seem to have used it. I 'spose she must've fallen from the floor above. There was this nasty big hole on the ceiling, you know. I always thought that building wouldn't last long… So anyway, I'm just tellin' you there's someone in the library who's snuffed it. You might wanna take care of her.'

The morgue's call centre boy mumbled something about having better things to do than going to fetch dead people. He was a rather unfriendly fellow. Not that I could imagine anyone working in a morgue friendly. One just doesn't get to talk to people too much there. At least, the sane ones don't. I once knew a pathologist who kept talking to his 'patients'. Funnily, they never replied.

We arrived before an ultra-modern house that seemed to have been made of glass only. The kid parked the Ford on the opposite side of the road to not wake suspicion, then we got out.

The street was deserted – it was six in the morning and people were still dozing in their comfortable beds. Come to think of it, the kid looked very tired. He hadn't slept a wink all night. He took his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, then put the glasses back.

"What kind of defence spells do you detect? And is there anyone at home?" he asked me, stifling a yawn.

I scanned the house on all seven planes. "No one's at home… except for a fourth level djinni. My equal, you'd say, but I have to remind you that I'm quicker and wittier than most, so I'm soooo above him. As for the shields… just the usual. A defence nexus and a contraceptive shield." I made a disgusted face. "I can't imagine Whitwell really _needing_ that contraceptive shield. Who'd want to do _that_ with her?"

"Someone who's completely blind or who's wearing very thick glasses."

"Hmm… you _are_ wearing thick glasses," I pointed out.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Spare me your jokes and deactivate the shield. I trust you can?"

"Piece of cake. It's not even a ringing type of nexus, it won't alarm the djinni, it's just there to hold us back by frying us. But there's no shield that can hold Bartimaeus back!"

The kid again rolled his eyes (I seriously considered telling him that eye-rolling didn't suit him... well, perhaps I'll tell him another time). "And _you_ tell _me_ that I'm over-confident," he grunted. "The pot calling the kettle black."

"Are you going to continue being grouchy or are we going to enter the hag's house at last?" I asked, crossing my arms.

Nathaniel sent me a patronising glance. "Deactivate the shields, Bartimaeus."

"Even the contraceptive one?" I sniggered.

The kid chuckled. "No. I'm sure the world is better off without any Whitwell-offspring."

"Tell you what, I really like _your_ offspring. Though… it must be because she resembles Kitty much more than you…" His scowl silenced me. "Okay, okay, off to work, then."

In no time, the defence nexus was down. I felt a bit of a tremor in the air when I deactivated it, but decided not to worry Nathaniel with it. I might have only been imagining things.

The kid stepped to a tiny console on the wall right next to the door and began pushing various buttons.

"Hey, what are you doing?" I asked.

"Whitwell isn't foolish enough to use only magical shields. She always liked modern technology and has her house full of these gadgets," Nathaniel replied as the door whooshed open.

"How come you know the code?" I frowned.

"I knew it when I was living here."

"One would expect that bony hag to be cleverer than to keep using the same code for a decade."

"Oh, this is one she wouldn't change," the kid said with a smirk. "And if my suspicion is right, then she uses this code for pretty much everything in this house."

I raised an eyebrow at him as I followed him into the house.

He kept grinning. "Even a hag like her used to be in love, though she'd never admit it to anyone. She had a serious crush on Quentin Makepeace and she has no idea I noticed it. Naturally, she gave me only a series of numbers: 7836846, which, on the keyboard of a phone or mobile phone stands for 'quentin'. Dear Miss Whitwell never thought I figured it out that it's not just a series of numbers… that it means much more to her… This is another reason why she'd hate me enough to want to ruin my life: I sent her precious Quentin to the Tower where he committed suicide."

I smiled. Just imagining Jessica Whitwell in love with someone was hilarious. Suddenly, the smile disappeared from my face as a vicious warrior in a karate outfit burst into the hall with a battle cry. Hmm… so the tremor that was caused by my deactivating the shield hadn't gone unnoticed by Whitwell's demon. I suspected the guy must have been a Jackie Chan fan. He sneered at us. "At last. I've been waiting for intruders for years. Come, my sweets, let me rip you apart!"

The kid and I exchanged a look. Neither of us liked being called 'sweets'. It was so degrading, as though we were a pair of blonde teenage girls.

"May I put him in his place?" I asked my master.

Nat nodded. "I give you free hand, Bartimaeus."

With a grin, I jumped at the Jackie Chan-wannabe.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: there, I've killed off Jane for you as a Christmas gift ;) Since there will not be any more updates before Christmas, I'm wishing you all HAPPY HOLIDAYS:)**

**And now, review, please! ;)**


	24. Crossroads

**A/N: Happy New Year, everyone, and sorry about the late update – I didn't want to update as long as ffnet's alerts were down. Now they seem to be back…**

**Since ffnet strips all email-formats I wanted to insert into the text of this chapter, I had to resort to writing the email addresses in a rather weird way – you'll see how. **

**Thanks for the reviews to: _TheWatcherandReader, fikle friend, Musica Diabolos, ebtwisty9, Aiko Moonchild, TheFasterYouUpdateTheBetter, Fredryck, Hello, Queen Dragon, Soccer101, Scarfia, ima loser, Random Shinobi, XxBlackChaosxX, HPLB, annatari.the.writer, dragon-warlord, D. L. Tokunaga, cocktail95, Saldaen farmgirl_**

**Chapter 24**

**Crossroads**

Needless to say, it didn't take me long to overpower the Jackie Chan Wannabe. He was fighting heroically – or rather stupidly, flailing his hands as though he were indeed a black belt, but within a few seconds it became clear to me that my opponent was nothing but an idiot who actually _believed_ he was good at karate. It was pathetic, really. He must have been watching Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan and the Karate Kid all the time, and thought that by watching them, he had managed to learn how to do it. Believe me, he hadn't.

The only time he managed to kick me was when I doubled over laughing (mind you, when you're practically rolling on the floor laughing, you can barely avoid an attack). So anyway, that single kick forced me to stop laughing at my opponent's clumsiness and I sent a detonation at him that threw him against the opposite wall. Well, to be perfectly honest, it threw him _across_ the opposite wall. And the wall of the next room, and so on and so on, until he ended up in the back garden.

"Hmm, impressive," Nathaniel said, stepping through the holes I had created in three walls. He walked across the first hole between the hall and the salon, the second hole between the salon and Miss Whitwell's bathroom, and the third hole between Miss Whitwell's bathroom and the back garden, where the unfortunate djinni lay steaming in the grass. "Dead?"

I bent down and examined my opponent. "No, just knocked out. If we're lucky, he won't wake up for at least three-four hours."

"Good. I hope we won't need that much time," the kid replied and walked back into the house. "Oh, and Bartimaeus… could you hide this hole somehow?" He pointed at the one that led from the bathroom into the garden. "I don't want the neighbours to spot it and phone Whitwell. You might as well drag our black belt friend into the bathroom and leave him there."

"As you wish," I replied with unusual cheerfulness. Normally I was never happy about obeying Nathaniel, but this time I was in a really good mood. This little hand to hand combat had been downright refreshing. I grabbed the unfortunate djinni and tossed him into the bathtub. "Honestly, how can a magical entity sink so low as to forget about using magic and resort to hitting and kicking?" I said disgustedly, not expecting an answer. It had been a rhetorical question, anyway.

I quickly cast an illusion charm on the hole between the bathroom and the garden to make it look as though nothing had happened to the wall, then followed Nat back into the hall. He was heading upstairs, and I seriously hoped he knew what he was doing.

"So, what now, Master Mine?" I asked, following him upstairs.

"Now, Bartimaues, we are going to find Whitwell's notes about the self-destructing demon charm. If I'm right, she's holding them behind a portrait of… Hmm. Well-well-well, what have we here…"

"What?" I frowned at him.

He grinned at me, and pointed at a portrait hanging above the electric fireplace. "That's Quentin Makepeace. Funnily, the last time I was here, Whitwell used to have Gladstone's portrait hanging over the fireplace… I really don't understand what any woman would like about Makepeace," he sighed, walking up to the portrait. "Gladstone was at least a formidable, confident, really manly man. But this playwright… he was a completely incompetent magician and even looked like a pansy with his fine clothes and neatly combed hair…"

"Reminds me of someone," I said with a toothy grin.

"Are you referring to me?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Noooo, why would I?" I asked with an innocent expression.

He gave me a withering glance and reached for the playwright's portrait, only to let out a squeak and pull his hand back. It looked red and sore. "Bugger."

I continued smiling at him innocently. "So, who's an incompetent magician? Every six-year-old magician-apprentice knows not to touch possibly well-protected objects without checking for protection spells…"

"Did you _see_ the protection spell?" he snapped at me.

I shrugged. "Might have."

He kept glowering at me.

"Hey, you didn't tell me to warn you. Besides, I saw it was a really harmless little spell that only causes some pain. You'll survive."

"Remove the spell and give me the portrait," the kid said sharply. "And next time you spot a protection shield or anything of the sort, do warn me."

I deactivated the spell and removed the portrait from the wall to reveal a tiny safe behind it. I examined the painting for a few moments. "Yeah, he does look like a pansy. I don't understand either what the bony hag liked about him. Then again, Kitty liked you, and that was something I didn't understand either…" Seeing Nathaniel's dark glance, I decided to shut up and pushed the portrait into his hands. "A flower for the Flower. I mean, a pansy for the pansy."

The kid rolled his eyes and examined the safe. It had a different locking mechanism from most safes: it was a keypad-operated one, just like the entrance door. "I never opened this when I was living there," Nathaniel said. "I doubt Whitwell even suspected that I knew she had a safe… I suspect she must be using the same series of numbers as for her entrance door. I'll try it anyway." He typed in 7836846, but nothing happened. The door remained sealed.

"Having problems, genius boy?" I asked, leaning against the fireplace.

He ignored me and began typing in the numbers in reversed order. Still nothing happened. The kid started to look a little frustrated. I was enjoying myself.

"Okay, then, let's try… 625373223." There was a soft click, and the door opened.

"Let me guess: you tried the phone number equivalent for 'makepeace'."

"Yeah." The kid flashed me with a proud smirk and reached into the safe.

"Honestly, one needs to be very thick to set the password 'makepeace' for a safe behind the portrait of Makepeace…"

"Not thick… just madly in love, I'd say," Nathaniel replied, and for a second I thought I'd seen something flit across his face. Shame? Hope? A mixture of the two?

"Hey." I put a hand on his shoulder. "She'll come back to you. I mean, Kitty, not Whitwell."

The kid snorted. "Thank heaven. What would I do with Whitwell? She's as unattractive as possible."

"But you love Kitty for more than just her attractiveness, don't you?" I didn't know why I was asking him these questions when we were in the middle of a robbery, but I felt I had to.

Nathaniel gave me a lopsided smile. "I'd love her if she were grey and wrinkly and had her front teeth missing. Actually… I do hope I get a chance to grow old beside her and see her turn grey, playing with our grandchildren…" Suddenly he shook his head, as if trying to shake the mushy thoughts out of it. Mushy thoughts and sappy talk didn't suit him anyway. "Next time choose a more suitable time to discuss my love life, will you?" he grunted. Oh, well. He was back to his normal, narcissistic, talking-down-to-others self. He reached into the safe and pulled out a bunch of papers, then walked with them to a nearby table. I peered into the safe to see stacks of money in there, but the kid hadn't even given them a second glance. Weird.

I joined him at the table. "Well, what have you found?"

"So far only shares and bonds, nothing of importance," he murmured.

"A bank manager would die of shock if he heard you."

"I'm not interested in money." Nathaniel looked up. "I never was."

"Perhaps because you had too much of it to value it?" I wondered. "Or perhaps because _power_ meant more to you than money?"

"Tell you what, I don't care for power either," he replied coldly and went back to reading.

"Are you sick, Nat?" I reached out and touched his forehead. "Nope, no fever. Maybe food poisoning? Stick out your tongue."

"Bartimaeus!" the kid snapped and angrily slapped a stack of bonds on the table. "I'm not sick, and I'm not sticking out my tongue for you to inspect, and stop pretending to be an idiot!"

"Well… it's not me who's showing symptoms of insanity," I observed. "You and not caring for power? What happened?"

"Kitty, Martha and my mum happened, okay?" the kid replied angrily, his eyes sparkling with fury. Now really, they reminded me of two flashes of lightning. Which reminded me of that horrible torturing nexus that the Tramp had used on me. Eh. By the time I managed to banish those horrible memories from my head, the kid was again deeply immersed in perusing a hand-written paper.

"Hmm… the hag had quite a bit of imagination," he spoke up after a while.

"Why, what's that?"

"One of her little inventions – a spell that combines the powers of several demons in order to kill people from huge distances. I don't know if she's finished this project or not…" He put the paper down and reached for another. "At last."

"The self destructive demon spell?"

The kid nodded with a solemn expression. "We have Miss Whitwell in our hands, Bartimaeus."

"Miss Whitwell maybe, but what about her accomplices?"

The kid leafed through the remaining papers. "Well, there's nothing here that would help us prove Jenkins' and Callaghan's guilt. But perhaps her computer holds some useful information…"

"What if it's password-protected or even encrypted?"

"I'm a clever boy, remember? I'll find a way." With that, he pocketed the papers with the self destructive demon spell and the other dangerous spell of Whitwell's, and shut everything else back into the safe. "Give Mr Pansy here."

I handed him Makepeace's portrait which he hung back on the wall. "And now, let's go over to her study and look around among her files and emails."

I followed him out of the living room, thinking that I had never seen him so eager about anything (well, perhaps only about shagging Kitty as many times as possible). His cheeks were flushed with excitement, and this time I was sure it wasn't that 'I'm getting even more powerful' sort of excitement that I had seen so many times from him in the past few years. His eyes were gleaming, but not with a cold fire like before – he looked like someone who knew he was doing something good. I have seen rebels fighting for freedom throughout the millennia, even fought alongside a few. They used to have the same kind of fire in their eyes as Nat did now.

In Miss Whitwell's study, the kid dropped himself into a chair before the computer and switched it on. As expected, the computer requested a username and password. For a moment a kid just stared at the monitor, thinking. His being deep in thought was signalled by the fact that he was chewing his lower lip. A rather disgusting habit, if you ask me.

"At the end of your wits, Kid?" I asked jovially.

He stopped chewing his lips and glowered at me. "You're enjoying robbing me of the last vestiges of self-confidence, aren't you?"

I refused to reply. One just doesn't need to reply stupid questions. I mean… _last vestiges_ of self-confidence? When did Nat ever run low on self-confidence? In my dreams, perhaps.

When he saw that I wasn't willing to reply, he turned back to the screen and typed in 'Whitwell' as the username and 'Makepeace' as the password. Of course, access was denied. Then he tried 'makepeace' in small letters. Then he tried Quentin and quentin. By the time he'd tried a dozen various types, including 'MaKePeAcE' and 'qEnTiN', he was practically tearing his hair.

"Shall I bring you a sedative pill?" I asked politely.

He only scowled at me and typed in 'quentinmakepeace', then 'quentinmakepeace.' Honestly, I was beginning to admire his patience. Well, if you can call hair-tearing a sign of patience. At least, he wasn't destroying anything around him yet, only himself. And I had no problem with that.

Another ten minutes later he was panting, his face propped in his palms. He looked totally exhausted. He really should have slept at least a few hours last night… Suddenly he looked up. "Get me a coffee."

"Where?"

"Make one in the kitchen!"

"And where's the kitchen?"

"Next to the bathroom where you've dumped that Bruce Lee djinni. And if you're there already, check on him. Should he be coming around, make sure he doesn't."

"Okay, but I'm warning you: I'm horrible at cooking. The last time I cooked for Alexander the Great, he died. I'm not sure it was because of my cooking, but…"

"Just go and leave me alone!" Nathaniel barked at me.

Looking and feeling hurt, I turned on my heels and marched downstairs. In the bathroom I found a djinni who was squinting blearily at me, and I shut his eyes with a well-aimed punch.

As I arrived back to Nat five minutes later, he gave me a tired but triumphant grin. "I did it! It was fairly easy, really… I should have though of it earlier."

"Why, what was the password?" I asked, pushing a cup of steaming coffee into his hands.

"It was 'swansofaraby'. Pathetic, isn't it?" He wrinkled his nose as he sipped the coffee.

"What, the password or the coffee?"

He grimaced even more. "Both. No wonder Alexander the Great died. Don't ever try cooking again."

I shrugged. "You made me, O Master Mine. I warned you."

Ignoring my last comment, he turned back to the screen again and started the mailing program. Miss Whitwell had half a dozen SPAM offering her a wide range of weird things from penis enlargement charms to fake Rolex watches, but Nat only seemed to be interested in the earlier emails she had received. I wanted to tell him how rude it was to read someone's private mail without their permission, but I knew he wouldn't listen. Especially because he didn't really know what 'rude' meant. (Rude meant _him_. But really, try it: ask a stupid person what stupid means. He won't be able to define it. Ask a vain person what vain means. He will have no idea what it is… Mind you, once Queezle asked me whether I knew what boastful meant. I'm still wondering why she asked _me_ of all djinn…)

The longer Nathaniel read Jessica Whitwell's emails, the better his mood became. In five minutes, he was practically beaming.

"Good news?" I asked.

"Wonderful, Bartimaeus." He smiled at me. "We have them in our hands. All of them."

o o o O O O o o o

Martha was getting herself acquainted with Mrs Ffoukes and her wonderful omelette when the Minister for Internal Affairs burst into the kitchen.

"Your father has just phoned, young lady," he said with a smile. "He's finished with his mission and wants me to take you to Whitehall. He's also heading there and wants to introduce you to someone."

"Introduce me to someone?" Martha echoed his words. "To the Prime Minister? I told him once I wanted to be Minister for Finance and he said he'd help me become one."

"Well…" Ffoukes hid a chuckle. "I doubt he wants to introduce you to our Prime Minister… perhaps he wants you to meet someone much nicer."

"Why, isn't the Prime Minister nice?" Martha asked, licking her fingers that were sticky with omelette. If Mrs Dawson were here, she'd surely reprimand her for eating like a boorish farm boy.

"That's something you will have to decide for yourself."

The little girl's eyes widened. "So I _am_ meeting him after all!"

Ffoukes nodded. "Very likely."

"How cool is that?" Martha clapped her omelette-smeared hands. "Do I look okay, Mrs Ffoukes? Is my hair messy? Mrs Dawson always told me my hair looked like a haystack when not combed, and sometimes even when combed…"

The woman smiled gently at her. "You look nice, dear. Just wash your hands and face."

Martha quickly washed herself, thanked Mrs Ffoukes for the lovely breakfast and left with Mr Ffoukes for Whitehall. If only she _knew_ what Whitehall was…

o o o O O O o o o

Kitty was woken by a guard entering the Prime Minister's office.

"Miss Jones, follow me, please."

Stifling a yawn, she got up and followed the guard out of the office, down a series of long corridors. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"To Gladstone's Room," came the cold reply. "The one you talked to Mr Deveraux in last night."

"And why are we going there?"

"Apparently Mr Mandrake has just turned up and insisted you be there. Strangely, he even requested the presence of a few journalists. No idea what he's planning…"

_Nathaniel?_ – Kitty's heart began to beat quicker. He surely didn't come here only because the ministers had set a trap for him by holding her captive here? She also wondered whether he had any kind of alibi concerning last night. She seriously hoped he did, even if it was about him spending the night in the arms of a minister's wife.

Kitty didn't know why she was having such thoughts, as the mere idea of Nathaniel cheating on her made her feel sick, but she couldn't help thinking that it was still better than Nathaniel being shut into the Tower. Women like Jane Farrar would rather he was sent into prison than see him with another woman, but Kitty was different. She would rather lose him to someone else but see him happy than have him in a cell in the Tower.

She shook her head in disbelief. She had only left him two days ago, and instead of being totally and utterly mad at him, she found she was already going soft.

Her pulse quickened at the thought of seeing him again. She dreaded it, but deep down there was some hopeful anticipation as well.

Upon entering Gladstone's room, she saw her husband (correction, ex-husband) in a circle of ministers. Next to him stood a rather familiar-looking Egyptian boy. _Bartimaeus?_ – Kitty's heart jolted. She hadn't seen the djinni since the Golem incident, but she'd grown fond of him and had been grateful to him for telling Nathaniel that she had been killed by the Golem. He had been like an accomplice to her, almost like a friend. Someone she knew she could trust. The thought that the djinni was working for Nathaniel again filled her with hope.

_Hope? For what?_ – She asked herself, but as Nathaniel's eyes met hers, she thought she already knew the answer. She had never yet seen his eyes filled with so much love, sadness, gentleness and determination. And hope. Yes, he too seemed hopeful. Just as hopeful as she was feeling right now.

_Could things ever turn good for the two of us?_ – She thought, staring into his deep blue eyes. _He's still a magician and a politician, and Jane Farrar is still out there, terrorising our daughter whom he still wouldn't accept as his own…_ She looked away and took a seat. _Who am I kidding?_

Slowly, the murmur subsided and the ministers took their places around the room, leaving young Mandrake and his demon standing in the middle by the round table.

Deveraux cleared his throat. "I must say I'm most pleased to see that you have willingly given yourself up after last night's, er… how to put it… _temporary insanity_, John. This will make things much easier for all of us."

Nathaniel sent Kitty a smile that she thought was almost cheeky. _Cheeky? How dare he? He's being accused of a rather serious crime; everyone here save Deveraux wants to see him behind bars, and he still has enough self-confidence to grin! Will I ever understand this man? _

"I beg your pardon, Prime Minister," Nathaniel spoke up with the usual confidence Kitty had so many times seen from him, "but I have not come here in order give myself up for something I've done in the state of 'temporary insanity', as I haven't done anything of what you're accusing me of. However, I'm here to give myself up for another crime, having broken into Miss Whitwell's house."

O

A murmur ran down the room, and for some reason, Jessica Whitwell turned as white as a sheet. Nathaniel just grinned, cheekier than ever.

"What?" His one-time master finally found her voice. "What do you mean by… breaking into my house? And how…?"

The young man folded his arms and sent her a confident smirk. "How did I manage it? Simple: you were too lazy to change the code at the entrance door, dear Ex-Master. You've been using the same stupid code for eleven years, just because you're still hopelessly smitten with Quentin Makepeace!"

Another murmur ran down the room.

'_What? Whitwell in love with Makepeace?'_

'_No, it can't be, Makepeace has been long dead!'_

'_What does the door code have to do with Makepeace at all?'_

For a minute Nathaniel just listened to the hushed conversations. When he thought he'd heard enough, he held up a hand. "To answer your questions, ladies and gentlemen: Miss Whitwell used to have a secret crush on our favourite playwright and even set the code to her entrance door to a series of numbers that represent the word 'quentin'. Rather pathetic, I'd say…"

"What's all this idiocy about, Mandrake?" Jessica Whitwell snapped at him. "What were you doing in my house? And what do you mean by claiming that you didn't set those convicts free?"

"Don't try to turn the discussion to other things, Miss Whitwell," Nathaniel replied calmly. "I will come to the Tower incident in time. Just give me an opportunity to explain myself. Sir?" He looked at Deveraux. "May I continue?"

"Certainly, John."

Sending his one-time master a cold smile, the young man resumed talking. "Last night I was driving in the English countryside, far away from London when I _allegedly_ set the Resistance free. Unfortunately, I have no alibi for where I was and what I was doing at half past ten last night, but I can prove it wasn't me whom you saw on the Tower's secret camera recordings. At midnight I turned on the radio in my car and heard this absurd story about my _alleged_ insanity that was _allegedly _caused by Kitty leaving me." He glanced at the woman. "Whatever happened, Kitty, I do love you, but I haven't gone crazy and I know you well enough to be sure that you wouldn't forgive me just because I released your one-time fellows. It doesn't compensate for the sins I've committed against you."

Kitty gave him a curious glance, wondering whether he'd continue, but Nathaniel turned away from her, back to Deveraux.

"So," he said, "the midnight news reported on this whole insanity, and I knew I was in trouble, as I had no alibi. I didn't know what to do, but I knew someone was trying to frame me, and I wanted to find out who it was. I needed help, therefore I stopped off at a petrol station and summoned my favourite djinni."

"Hey, thanks," Bartimaeus murmured.

"If you want to check what I was doing between half past midnight and half past one, you can go and ask the assistant at the BP station on the A30 main road, near Wilton," Nathaniel carried on. "Anyway, at the petrol station my djinni noticed a search sphere hovering above my car. A search sphere I had no idea about…" He glanced at Jessica who was getting paler and paler by the second. "I immediately knew how my ill-wishers had known I had left London in the evening and how they had known what kind of clothing I was wearing. This way they could easily instruct their demon to take on my shape and the clothes I had left London in. I ordered my demon to catch the imp in the search sphere for a little interrogation. And do you know what happened?"

He held a pause and looked around. Everyone was staring at him with interest, only three faces were white: Jessica's, Clive Jenkins' and Arnold Callaghan's. "The search sphere exploded into my djinni's face."

"What?" the Information Minister breathed.

"It exploded, as though it had been operated by remote control," Nathaniel replied. "I'd like to request a magic-detector, if you don't mind. That will prove that an imp has indeed exploded into my demon's face. I want you to have the evidence."

"All you've so far given us is a load of rubbish, Mandrake," Jessica Whitwell hissed.

"Is it, dear Miss Whitwell?" Nathaniel arched an eyebrow at her.

"Do as he asks," Deveraux said.

A clerk hurried out of the room and in three minutes he returned with a magic detector, a laptop, a projector and a rolled-up canvas screen.

Nathaniel took the gadget from him and attached it to Bartimaeus' wrist like a watch. As the detector was connected to the laptop and the laptop to the projector, the results were immediately shown on the screen.

'_One hour and 35 minutes ago: kick in the stomach by a fourth-level djinni. Six hours and 5 minutes ago: imp-particles covered most of the upper body, particularly the face. Six hours and 47 minutes ago: summoned from the Other Place by a magician.'_

"Well, this proves that the imp exploded in your djinni's face, but… how does that connect to everything else?" the Minister for Technology wondered.

"Easily," Nathaniel replied, motioning Bartimaeus to take off the detector. "In the two years I spent in Miss Whitwell's house as her apprentice, I found out a few things about her. One of these things was that she was secretly in love with Quentin Makepeace. The other thing was that she was developing illegal charms. One of them was a charm that enables a magician to force its demon to self-destruct even from a great distance. I immediately thought of Miss Whitwell when the search sphere blew up."

"This doesn't mean anything," said woman replied sharply. "Anyone could have developed a charm like that."

"But _you _did it," the young man said, pulling two pieces of crumpled paper out of his pocket. "This is what I was looking for in Miss Whitwell's house: her notes on the self-destruct charm. I confess to have committed a crime when breaking and entering, but the only things I stole are two pieces of paper and a rather cheap CD. It's a rather small crime compared to what Miss Whitwell and her accomplices did: framing me by setting a bunch of convicts free from the Tower!"

"This is a slander! It has nothing to do with reality!" Jessica Whitwell sprang up from her seat.

"Oh, is that so?" The young magician gave her a nasty smirk. "Then let's ask a graphologist to tell whether this is indeed your handwriting. Prime Minister, is it possible to get a graphologist as soon as possible?"

"Certainly, John." Deveraux glanced at the clerk who had carried the magic detector into the room and the clerk hurried out, almost running headlong into Ffoukes who entered the room with a little girl. None of the ministers noticed them, only Nathaniel and Bartimaeus did. Ffoukes and the child took places in a row at the back.

"Until the graphologist arrives, let us have a look at the contents of this CD," the Deputy Prime Minister said, stepping to the laptop and inserting the CD into its CD-ROM drive. "I suspected that Miss Whitwell might have had help with the demon that took on my form, so I talked to Mr Ffoukes whose memory has been recently modified, presumably by Miss Whitwell or one of her accomplices."

"That's a slander again!" Jessica snapped. "Prove it!"

"That's what I'm going to do," Nathaniel replied. "Ffoukes told me two days ago that he had a few hours of his memories missing after Mr Sullivan's party. Is that right, Ffoukes?"

Everyone turned around to look at said minister. Some of them seemed to be surprised to see a child sitting next to him.

O

Kitty let out a gasp. She knew this little girl! She had asked her where London Waterloo station was. But what was she doing here with the Minister of Internal Affairs?

O

"Exactly as Mr Mandrake says," Ffoukes replied. "Someone modified my memories at the party. I still don't remember what they had made me forget… but I suspect it must have been the secret code to the Tower's security system."

For a few seconds the ministers discussed the developments in hushed voices. Nathaniel ended the murmur with asking Ffoukes to try on the magic detector.

Ffoukes walked up to him and put the gadget on his wrist.

'_3 days, 7 hours and 35 minutes ago: memory charm placed on him by a magician.'_ – the script on the screen read. _'3 days, 7 hours and 39 minutes ago: an obedience charm placed on him by an afrit.'_

"The magic detector never lies," Nathaniel said. "I have every reason to suspect that whoever had placed the memory charm on him had forced him to tell them the secret access code to the Tower's security system. Miss Whitwell here said I had no proof it was her. Well, I do have proof." With that, he clicked on the CD driver's icon. A few documents were saved on the CD, all in .eml format. "I must confess that I was curious to find out how Miss Whitwell had done it all. I was sure she had accomplices…" He squinted at Clive Jenkins and Arnold Callaghan sitting next to each other a few rows behind Whitwell. They were both as white as a sheet.

"So, in the hope of finding more useful information, I hacked into Miss Whitwell's computer."

"Impossible," the woman hissed. "You couldn't have known the password!"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "Yes, it was difficult to find the right Makepeace-related word, but I managed to find it nevertheless. I'd say it was a rather unimaginative one… Not to mention that Swans of Araby was one of his worst plays." He turned back to the screen of the laptop and clicked on the first email. "Ladies and gentlemen, lo and behold: and email from Miss Whitwell's outbox. This is how a plot to undermine our government has started."

The email read:

**From**: Jessica Whitwell (Iluvquentin (at) yahoo . com)

**Date**: 27th March 2009 20:00

**To**: Clive Jenkins (clivieboy (at) hotmail . com); Arnold Callaghan (arnierulez (at) gmail . com)

**Subject**: Mandrake

_Boys,_

_Finally, our time has come! It wasn't in vain that we got the access code from that idiot Ffoukes, we can use it tonight! An hour ago I saw Mandrake leave his house through the search sphere, and currently he's driving down a country road towards the South-West. Don't ask what he's doing there, I have no idea. Point is that he's away, on a road where no one sees him and no one can provide him with an alibi. Be at my place in half an hour. Together we will summon that lovely afrit who will impersonate our 'favourite' Mr Mandrake :-D In case you aren't checking your emails, I'm sending both of you an SMS to go online urgently._

_Your friend in hatred for Mandrake,_

_Jess_

"Well?" Nathaniel looked up. "Do you want to read any more emails exchanged by these three?"

"This is madness!" Clive Jenkins shouted. "This email is a fake!"

The Deputy Prime Minister gave him a challenging look. "Care to let the Police have a look at _your _emails, Mr Jenkins? I mean, right now, before you have a chance to delete them?"

The red haired man blanched.

"I thought as much. You haven't yet deleted the incriminating evidence. Funny what a petty little mistake like not deleting your read emails can cause…"

"This is all nice," Mr Deveraux spoke up. "Nice and believable, John, but there's one thing I don't understand: why would these people hate you so much as to frame you?"

"Miss Whitwell has two reasons to hate me. One: I got more power at the age of nineteen than she could ever dream of, two: I sent her beloved to the Tower where he killed himself. As for Jenkins: he's hated me ever since he had to work for me in the Department of Internal Affairs. True, I was never particularly nice to him, but perhaps I didn't deserve a punishment as great as the whole of the Empire thinking I'm a criminal?" Nathaniel gave the red haired man a piercing glance. "As for Mr Callaghan… I must admit I have absolutely no idea why _he _would hate me. Care to enlighten me, Sir?"

Every eye focused on Arnold Callaghan, deputy to the Minister for Employment. For a while the man tried to ignore everyone's stares.

"Well? Answer my deputy," Deveraux demanded, emphasising the words 'my deputy'. It was no longer a question for anybody within the room whom the Prime Minister believed.

Callaghan glowered at Nathaniel. "You took Jane from me."

"Me?" The young magician blinked. "Excuse me, but as far as I know, Jane only had two lovers before me: her master and Marmeduke Fry. And correct me if I'm wrong but I doubt if she was cheating on me with _you _as long as we were together. I always had a higher status than you and Jane loved men with power. So, what exactly do you mean by me taking her from you?"

Callaghan's face was now as red as the setting sun. "She never really wanted me, always just you! Whenever she was with me, she was thinking of you, I knew it! She ever screamed your name when-"

"When you were shagging her?" Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at the other man. "Well, it's not my problem if you can't satisfy a woman in bed."

A few chuckles could be heard from the 'audience'.

"But don't worry," Nathaniel carried on, "she won't ever scream my name in anyone's bed again. I'm sorry to say but she has recently passed away."

A few gasps could be heard and few comments like 'Oh, no! How?'.

Nathaniel glanced at Kitty who turned to white then to red, then back to white as her glance shifted between her ex-husband and the little girl sitting next to Ffoukes. She was putting pieces of a jigsaw puzzle together…

"You killed her, didn't you?" Jessica Whitwell snapped. She seemed determined to do anything just to discredit Nathaniel now that her plot to frame him had failed. "You've hated her for ages, of course you'd kill her! I bet that's what you were doing last night! You took her to the countryside and killed her there, didn't you?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, woman…" Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "No. I didn't kill her. It was an accident, and my djinni, Ffoukes and that lovely young lady sitting next to Ffoukes can attest to it."

By this time, tears were brimming Kitty's eyes. Nathaniel deliberately avoided eye-contact with her, not letting emotions take over – not yet, anyway.

"Was it an accident?" he asked Ffoukes.

"Definitely. Miss Farrar was trying to kidnap this child when the floorboard broke under her. She fell through the hole and the demon saved the child. If you want me to swear on the Bible or on anything else…"

"It's okay, Minister Ffoukes, we believe you," Deveraux said.

"Of course you believe him, because he's saying what John wants him to say! You always believed anything coming from John!" Jessica Whitwell barked. "But I bet he isn't as innocent as he acts! Do tell us, John, what were you doing on that country road at the middle of the night?"

Nathaniel took a deep breath. "I…"

The door of Gladstone's Room opened and the clerk returned, with a woman in tow. "Sir, here's the graphologist you requested."

"Well, it's more or less pointless now, as I've proved Miss Whitwell's guilt already, but one more piece of evidence can't hurt, can it?" Nathaniel gave the woman the papers with Jessica's handwriting. "I'm sure the clerks can provide you with documents with Miss Whitwell's signature, or forms that Miss Whitwell has filled in. You can compare them with these. And now," he turned away from the graphologist, addressing Deveraux again, "I'm going to tell you what I was doing on the country road last night."

"About time," Bartimaeus muttered. "I'm getting bored here."

Giving his djinni a withering glance, Nathaniel looked around in the room. His eyes shifted from the curious Deveraux to the seething Whitwell, from Whitwell to the crestfallen Jenkins, from Jenkins to Arnold Callaghan who looked ready to shoot himself, and from Arnold to Kitty, who was smiling at him through her tears. He smiled back, then looked at Martha. The little girl waved at him.

He took a deep breath again. "Almost six years ago, when I fell in love with my wife, I dumped my girlfriend, Jane. You all know this happened, as you and half the country heard it thanks to a journalist who recorded the conversation between Jane and me." He glanced at one of the journalists who was eagerly scribbling in the front row. The journalist looked up and gave the Deputy Prime Minister a toothy grin, then returned to his notes.

"You all know about the break-up, but you don't know about many things that came after it. Jane swore revenge on me. Of course, I had no idea what she was planning – I had no idea that she had summoned the djinni who had served me years earlier."

"That's me," Bartimaeus said.

Nathaniel continued. "I only found out about this last night, and I was surprised to say the least. Especially when my djinni shed light on certain shady details…" Seeing the confusion on the listeners' faces, he allowed himself a little smile. "I must admit I wasn't entirely open with you. For six years, I've been lying to the world, deceiving the government, the Empire, and most of all, myself. I see gaping ministers and journalists eager for anything scandalous. Well, you're going to get it. Six years ago, I broke one of the basic rules of our society: I fathered a child."

'_Huh?'_

'_Mandrake with a child?'_

'_What the f…?_'

In a few seconds every eye was focused on Martha, who look frightened by the sudden interest in her. Seeing the fright in her eyes, Nathaniel walked up to her and held out a hand with an encouraging smile. "Come, don't be afraid."

She took his hand, and he led her into the middle of the room.

"Prime Minister, ministers, ladies and gentlemen: this is my daughter. My daughter, whose conception was an accident, caused by my djinni."

"It was _really_ an accident," Bartimaeus added. "I never wanted him to have a child. The mere idea of _him_ being a father-"

"_I_'m speaking here," Nathaniel told Bartimaeus.

The djinni shrugged. "Okay, Master. I'm shutting up."

"Do so. Last night, my djinni told me that Jane had sent him after me to spy on me. Jane wanted to know everything I did to use it against me. When the djinni entered my house, he needed to deactivate a few shields, and by accident, he deactivated the contraceptive shield as well. I had no idea about the malfunctioning shield until one morning Kitty announced she was pregnant. That was quite a shock for me."

In the front row, the journalist's pen was a blur, he was writing so fast. Deveraux was staring at his deputy as though he had grown a second head.

Nathaniel carried on, ignoring the weird glances he was getting. "I knew Kitty wanted the child, and I'm not for abortion myself. The only solution I could find was to take Kitty away from London and tell everyone she had lung problems that required her to stay in the countryside for months." Nathaniel shook his head. "I will never forgive myself for exposing my wife to the dangers of giving birth in a village at the back of beyond. She could have died. The baby could have died too. I risked losing both of them just to keep my position in the government. I was a selfish git." He looked at the journalist. "You may quote me verbatim. I don't mind. I've been recently accused of having set dozens of criminals free. I doubt that calling myself rightfully a git would be any worse than that."

The journalist grinned at him and Nathaniel would have sworn he'd seen him wink. Well, any journalist in his place would be cheerful – he was having a field day. A series of scandals like this wasn't an everyday occurrence…

"Back to my story – Kitty gave birth in a village called Fenny Bridges, and we put our daughter into the local orphanage, in the hope of claiming her as my apprentice when she turned five. Yes, I know this is completely illegal, but answer me: would you have acted differently, were you in my place?" Nathaniel looked around. "I can almost see a big 'NO' written across your faces. You would have acted as I did, because you're magicians. Because you're just as infected with power as I was. But perhaps, you too would have been ashamed of what you've done. I definitely am. I sinned against my wife, my daughter, and the magician society by lying to them. Lying to all of you. And I'm asking for your forgiveness," he looked around in the room, his eyes stopping on his ex-wife, "but especially yours, Kitty. Our daughter has forgiven me already."

"Is _she_ my mum?" Martha tugged at Nathaniel's sleeve, her blue eyes fixed on the black haired woman. "And why is she crying?"

It seemed Kitty could no longer take it – she hopped up from her seat, trod on two ministers' feet on her way out of the second row, and practically swept the little girl off her feet.

For a minute no one spoke, the cold and rigid ministers stared at mother and daughter, and a few of them allowed themselves a smile.

Suddenly, someone started to clap. It was Jessica Whitwell. "Very well done, Mr Mandrake. A beautiful show, no doubt. Everyone's heart has melted, bravo. But may I remind you that you could get sent to prison for this?"

"For not having killed his child? I doubt it," Rupert Deveraux spoke up. "It's you who's going in prison, dear Miss Whitwell, along with Mr Jenkins and Mr Callaghan. Of course, only after your emails have been checked by the Police. I trust all three of you will let the Police investigate in your homes and inboxes? As for John… I think he hasn't yet finished his story."

Nathaniel nodded. "As I said, Kitty and I put our daughter into the village orphanage and wanted to claim her as my apprentice when she turned five. However, since the djinni was spying on us and delivering information to Jane about our baby, Jane could head me off and claim my daughter as _her_ apprentice before I could. Jane thought that the best way to make me miserable was to take my daughter from me. However, my daughter decided she didn't want to be Jane's apprentice and escaped from London."

"That was when we met," Kitty muttered, her voice trembling, her eyes never leaving her daughter's face.

"Yeah, I wanted to get away from her. She was a horrible hag," Martha replied.

Deveraux could barely hide a smile. "How exactly did you escape from Miss Farrar, dear?"

"I tricked her demon into playing hide and seek and left the house while he was counting. I got on a bus and went to Waterloo station. From there I took a train to Feniton. From Feniton I walked to Fenny Bridges. But evil Miss Farrar came after me and killed my grandma and…"

"Grandma?" Deveraux, along with a few other ministers echoed her.

"Esther – dead?" Kitty gasped.

Nathaniel nodded with a sad expression. "Let me explain. In Fenny Bridges, I met my mother. I didn't recognise her, she recognised me straightaway. She was the matron in the orphanage, and she took care of my daughter for five years. Last night, when Jane went after my daughter, she and my mother had a fight, and Jane's demon killed my mother. She died in my arms, and with her last words she told me to come to my senses. And that's exactly what I'm doing right now." He sent Kitty a gentle smile, then turned back to the Prime Minister. "That's why I've told you everything. I've confessed my sins, and I'm awaiting your verdict."

"What verdict, dear boy?" Deveraux shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong. After all, becoming a father wasn't your fault, was it? Of course no one holds you guilty for that… If someone is guilty in this matter, then it's Miss Farrar and this clumsy demon. Miss Farrar has apparently paid for sins already-"

In the third row, Arnold Callaghan began to sob aloud. He must have loved Jane very much. Jessica Whitwell was seething with rage.

"Who are you calling clumsy?" Bartimaeus asked sharply.

"No one," Nathaniel said with a placating gesture. "I'm not blaming you, and no one else is. Right, Mr Deveraux, Sir?"

The Prime Minister shrugged. "If _you _aren't blaming him, then why would anyone else? As for the Tower-incident, John, you will certainly be exonerated, in all the media. No one in the Empire will be left in doubt about your innocence. In order to compensate you for the inconvenience this whole ordeal caused for you, you will be given a pay rise, naturally, and…"

"Don't even continue, Prime Minister, please," Nathaniel cut in. "Thank you for your trust, for having believed in me all along. I accept the Empire's apology and I expect to be exonerated in public, but I don't want a pay rise. I don't want politics either. Actually, I don't want to have anything to do with the magician society anymore."

"What? But… John!"

"Mr Deveraux, Sir. My mother wanted me to come to my senses, and I have. I have realised that politics is not for me, and I can live a perfectly happy life without power. I realised this late, but hopefully not _too _late. If a Minister in London needs to deny the existence of his child, and in order to keep his power he has to divorce the woman he loves - if this is what one needs to do for power, then I no longer want it. Whitwell and her friends' attack proved to me that as a high-ranking Minister I can only be envied and hated. I don't want to be envied by others… at least not for my power, position and money. The only thing one should be envied for is a happy family life, a peaceful home." Nathaniel turned to Kitty, who was sizing him up like he was an alien. She wore an incredulous expression, as though she couldn't decide whether to believe her own ears.

Nathaniel looked into her eyes. "I don't want to be the most eligible bachelor in the Empire anymore. I don't want to be a bachelor at all. I only want to be a father and husband. I love you, Kitty. Will you marry me?"

The incredulous expression disappeared from her face to be replaced by the most radiant smile he had ever seen her wearing. "Yes, gladly."

Smiling brightly, Nathaniel bent and scooped up his daughter, and with his free hand took Kitty's hand. "Ladies and gentlemen. I'm not asking for your understanding, as I'd be doing that in vain, you wouldn't understand me. I'm only asking for an opportunity to keep ten per cent of my riches to start a new life abroad. The rest can go back to the treasury. God knows, I've had more money than I could ever spend. Prime Minister, Ministers, good luck in running our country. Good-bye."

With that, Nathaniel turned on his heels and left Gladstone's room with his daughter, wife and the Egyptian boy.

To quote a most knowledgeable djinni: when Nathaniel reached the crossroads, he chose the right path, and Kitty and Martha gladly walked down it with him.

This day went down in history as 'The Day Mandrake Quit'. Some held him a fool, some a hero. And some just referred to him as 'The Minister Who Dared Say No to Power'.

o o o O O O o o o

As Nathaniel and his family walked out of the building, into the blinding sunlight, Bartimaeus spoke up. "Do tell, Nat, why did you keep referring to me as 'djinni' instead of calling me by my name?"

"I hoped that the magicians have already forgotten your name since the Golem incident, and I didn't want to risk mentioning it again, should any of them want to summon you later," the young magician explained. "If they don't know your name, they can't use you against me."

Bartimaeus chuckled. "Good thinking. I'd be happy if no one who knew you ever summoned me again. I don't particularly like working for you, but I dislike working _against_ you even more."

Nathaniel arched an eyebrow at the djinni. "What, does this mean you're starting to be friendly towards me?"

"God forbid, no!"

"I think you are," Martha chimed in, comfortably sitting on his father's arm. "You like Daddy. Don't worry about it if you like him, Mummy likes him too and I like him too."

"See, everybody likes me." Nathaniel winked at Bartimaeus.

"I do like you, honey," Kitty spoke up, "but I will like you even more when you grow your hair back. It looks awful."

Nathaniel sent the djinni a cheeky smirk meaning 'see, somebody _liked_ my old hairdo!'. Rolling his eyes, Bartimaeus followed the little family to Nathaniel's Ford Fiesta.

o o o O O O o o o

**A/N: almost over, only a short chapter left. Review, please!**


	25. Just Plain Nathaniel

**A/N: everything ends some day, and so does my story. I hope you're not too sad about it. I'm happy and proud that I managed to write a fanfic that so many people enjoyed and that has apparently become the most popular one in this fandom. Thank you all for your responsiveness, your kind comments meant a lot!**

**There is an illo for this chapter, you can find its link in my ffnet bio.**

**If ffnet allowed lyrics, I would put the lyrics of Il Divo's _Mama_ into the chapter, right before the wedding scene. But as ffnet doesn't allow it, I can't. If you can get the first Il Divo CD or download their songs from the web, be sure to listen to _Mama_, my favourite song ever. It's so beautiful, so touching, and every time I listen to it, I feel as though it were about Nathaniel and his relationship to Esther. Also, there's another Il Divo song that fits this chapter: _The Man You Love_. When I first listened to it, I immediately thought of Nat at the end of my fic, as he wants nothing else but to be the man Kitty loves ;) **

**Okay, enough of my rant, on with the story:)**

**Chapter 25**

**Just Plain Nathaniel **

Two weeks had passed since the little Mandrake family had walked out of Gladstone's Room, leaving a bunch of shocked ministers behind. Lots of things had happened in those two weeks, and one of them was the trial and imprisonment of Jessica Whitwell (whose handwriting had been identified by the graphologist), Clive Jenkins and Arnold Callaghan.

O

One morning a commoner in Chertsey woke to find a neatly wrapped package on his doorstep. In the package he found his missing pieces of clothing (a pair of dark blue trousers and a maroon turtleneck jumper), cleaned and ironed, along with an anonymous letter in which the writer apologised for the inconvenience.

O

John Mandrake, after he was exonerated in public, regularised Martha's status, sold his enormous town house and opened a new bank account to which he transferred ten percent of his money, claiming that the government wouldn't let him leave the country with any more of the fortune that he had collected as a member of the government; especially after having turned his back on them.

Kitty thought this was all just an excuse for Nathaniel to get rid of the money that made him feel uncomfortable. She believed that his sudden conversion had not only indicated disgust with power but also pangs of remorse at having lived a 'luxury life' so far. She was more than surprised when he decided to willingly give up ninety percent of his money, but she saw that it made him look relieved, as though a huge burden had been taken off his shoulder. He looked like someone who, after having felt guilty over his power, money and position for a long time, had finally managed to shed his guilt and was starting to feel and act like a free man.

O

The one-time deputy Prime Minister had changed a lot, but deep down Kitty knew that the only thing that had happened was that John Mandrake had disappeared, giving more space for Nathaniel. The latter had been residing inside the former for ages, suppressed and weak, but now he had grown stronger and overpowered John.

Kitty had never known her beloved before he turned into power-hungry John Mandrake, but she suspected that this was how he had been as a child: ambitious and self-confident, but only to a certain extent. Now she was more and more often getting glimpses of the unspoilt boy he had once been, and she found it utterly endearing.

O

As they were walking hand in hand in a meadow in Alsace, Kitty was smiling to herself, still not believing her luck. It all seemed like a fairy tale, it was almost like magic. She had never before felt so happy in her whole life. All those years ago, when she had fallen in love with Nathaniel, she had felt something that resembled her current emotions, but now that she looked back on those happy days at the beginning of their marriage, she realised that it couldn't hold a candle to what she was feeling now. Back then she knew he was a magician who loved her, but who loved power even more. Even if she had tried to persuade herself that she was happy with him, something at the back of her mind kept nagging her, telling her that her happiness would be short-lived.

Now, there was no pessimistic little voice speaking in her mind. Kitty was full of optimism, she was in love and loved in return. She knew that he'd chosen her over power, and that made her heart almost burst with delight.

"What's so funny?" Nathaniel spoke up.

"Funny?"

"You're smiling."

"I'm just happy," Kitty replied. "All my dreams seem to be coming true."

"Care to tell me about your dreams?"

"Well…" She let go of his hand and flopped down in the grass, her actions shaking a bunch of dandelions whose tiny, umbrella-like seeds scattered, only to be swept away by the soft breeze. He sat down next to her, his blue eyes glinting with interest. "We're becoming a real family," Kitty explained. "You, Martha and me. Even my parents seem to like you better now…" She chuckled. "Thankfully there's no 'Minister Mandrake this, Minister Mandrake that' anymore… but they do like you. Dad told me you had promised them to give me back to them. I thought that was sweet." She reached out to remove a dandelion-seed from his hair. His locks were back to their usual length, thanks to a demon that was an expert on human transfigurations.

"I didn't really give you back to them," Nathaniel replied. "I'm taking you away from them again, and we're going to live hundreds of miles from London. It's not like they can come and visit every weekend…"

She sent him a lopsided grin. "Bet you're happy about it."

Nathaniel made a grimace. "Well, who loves their in-laws?"

"Actually, I did," Kitty replied with a sad smile. "I'm so sorry Esther died."

Nathaniel heaved a sigh and took her hand again. "Don't be. She wouldn't want you to be sorry. Besides… it's her, or at least partly her whom we must thank our happiness. I'm sure she's looking down at us right now, smiling approvingly. As for your parents… don't worry, I sort of like them. I used to find them horribly annoying when they were praising me on no end, but… they're much nicer now that they treat me as a 'normal' person. And they adore Martha so much."

"Yes." Kitty smiled. "I don't even want to imagine how Mum will be crying when we move here after the wedding."

"I can understand her." Nathaniel nodded. "Before I knew our daughter, I couldn't imagine living with her or with any child. Now that I know her, I couldn't imagine life without her. Bartimaeus once said she was the best thing I ever made in life."

"The best thing _we_ ever made in life," Kitty pointed out.

"Yeah, no doubt you played quite an active role in that," he chuckled.

"Yeah. I rode you." She grinned mischievously.

"Don't start this horsy thing, please…"

"Why, I thought that was your favourite position?"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "It is. It's just… Bartimaeus. This is his favourite 'how to annoy Nathaniel' topic."

Kitty wrinkled her nose. "You know, I still think it's a bit… morbid to have had a djinni peeking at us while we were…"

"Don't worry, no djinn, imps, moulers or afrits will ever peek at us again. I don't intend to use much magic in the future anyway."

"What about Ugly and Enid?"

"I kept them to serve the needs of a Minister. I'm no Minister any longer, so I'm not going to need them. But if _you_ want them, we could keep them."

Kitty shook her head. "I can cook and do the washing up myself, thank you very much. Besides, our new house isn't anywhere near as big as the old one was. I can manage it. And sometimes you too could grab a vacuum cleaner…"

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you sure it doesn't bite?"

"Absolutely sure."

He shrugged. "I might try it, then. If I could run an empire, I can deal with a stupid machine…" He glanced over Kitty's shoulder, at a nice, family house on the hillside. A family house that was theirs. In front of the house there was this lovely meadow full of spring flowers, and beyond it, there were vineyards as far as the eye could reach. It was idyllic, indeed.

She knew what he was watching. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes." He nodded. "The most peaceful place I've ever known. I'm just still wondering why you choose Alsace of all places."

She leaned back slightly, propping herself on her elbows. "During those years we were not exactly friendly with each other, I read a lot, and when I wasn't reading, I watched television. Mostly the documentary channels. My favourite was Travel Channel. Once there was a documentary on Alsace, and well… it grabbed me. I thought if I ever had to live abroad, I'd live there. _Here_. I only have to learn the French tongue. You could teach me."

Nathaniel inched closer, an impish look on his face. "I though I taught you the French _tongue_ six years ago…"

Before she knew, his lips were on hers, his tongue pleading access to the deeper recesses of her mouth. She moaned, responding to his kisses with five years' pent-up passion. "I meant… the French… _language_," she panted when he finally gave her a chance to breathe.

"Yeah… I know." He grinned, and kissed her again. "We're currently outside a protected area. Do you want me to create a contraceptive shield?"

Kitty wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I don't insist on it. Do you?"

"No." His blue eyes sparkled with desire. "Not in the least."

o o o O O O o o o

_Fenny Bridges, three weeks later_

Nathaniel stood in the tiny cemetery, his eyes fixed upon a wooden cross that bore the name 'Esther Dawson'. All the flowers that had been placed on the grave at the funeral had shrivelled and long lost their bright colours. The only fresh flower among the mass of dried-up beige and brown ones was a single white rose that Nathaniel brought.

The cemetery was silent, no old ladies were visiting their husbands' graves; the only sound was that of a woodpecker hammering its beak into an old oak tree. Then, the young man's voice broke the silence.

"I'm sure you can hear me, Mother," he said, more to the sky than to the mound of earth that covered Esther's coffin, as though he knew that the person he was talking to wasn't in the cold earth, but up in heaven. "I know you've seen everything that's happened in these few weeks, and I hope… I hope you're proud of me. I hope I've managed to become the man you wanted me to be: not a famous magician, not a powerful minister, just plain Nathaniel. Please, forgive me the times I made you cry… I'm sure there were quite a few. I'm so sorry I never had a chance to ask for and get your forgiveness while you lived." He bit into his lower lip, blinking back a tear. "I miss you. Martha and Kitty miss you too, but I'm sure you know that…" He sniffed, a small smile appearing on his face. "I can't afford to cry now. What would I look like at my wedding?" He glanced at the chapel's direction to see a tiny figure waving at him. "I've got to go now. My fiancée's waiting."

With that, he turned around and walked to the tiny figure waiting for him by the chapel.

"Come on Daddy, don't make Mummy wait," Martha said, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards the chapel's entrance.

"Coming. Wouldn't miss my own wedding, now, would I?" Nathaniel smiled at his daughter. "By the way, you look lovely, Princess."

Martha wrinkled her nose. "Don't I look too girly?"

"Too girly? You _are_ a girl," he pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but… these frills… I will only tear them," Martha replied seriously. "And I like my baseball cap much better than these fake roses. Granny wanted me to wear them…" Grimacing, she pointed at the wreath woven into her wavy black locks.

"Well, a flower girl surely can't wear a baseball cap," Nathaniel replied, hiding a smile. His daughter was so adorably tomboyish…

They entered the chapel, and the groom walked up to the altar.

There were few people invited: besides a single harmonium-player, the only guests were Kitty's parents (who were smiling at their ex- and future son-in-law in a friendly way), Ffoukes, who was the best man, and Bartimaeus, in his favourite Egyptian boy form. Thankfully, he chose to wear a suit instead of a stylish Egyptian loincloth.

The harmonium-player began playing the bridal march, and Nathaniel felt his knees go weak as Kitty appeared in the doorway. She wore a simple, cream-coloured dress (that barely reached beyond her knees), and a matching hat. Her wedding dress had no lace like her first one had, she wasn't wearing a tiara and pearl necklace, but she wore a heart-melting smile that made her look a thousand times lovelier than at their first wedding.

The smile on Kitty's face wasn't the only difference from the former ceremony. At Westminster Abbey the bride and groom had recited lines that neither of them took seriously. Now, every word they said came from their hearts.

"…till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight thee my troth," Nathaniel repeated after the priest, holding Kitty's hand, his eyes boring into hers.

Tears welled up in Kitty's eyes as he uttered his vows, and her voice was trembling so much that she could barely speak hers.

"…for richer for poorer… in sickness and in health, to love and to… cherish, till… death us do part… according to… God's holy ordinance… and thereto I plight thee my troth."

"Hereby, with the power bestowed upon me by God, I pronounce you husband and wife," the priest concluded the ceremony. "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. You may kiss the bride."

Kitty arched an eyebrow at her husband. "Did you put that into the ceremony _again_?"

"Why, do you have any problems with it?" He grinned at her.

"None, Mr Mandrake." With that, she caught him by his tie and pulled him to herself. Curiously, this kiss lasted much longer than the first one at their first wedding…

It was Bartimaeus who cleared his throat to remind the newlyweds that they were still in the chapel. "The wedding night is still a few hours away, kids. Be patient."

"Easy to say," Nathaniel laughed, offering Kitty his arm and leading her out of the building.

"I have to say, you look absolutely stunning today, Kitty," the djinni remarked. "But Nat might not like you enough this way. He said he wanted to see you old and toothless…"

"What?" Kitty stared at her husband.

The young man shook his head with an almost suffering expression. "Bartimaeus loves to twist my words. I only told him I wanted to grow old at your side."

"But you did say something about missing teeth as well, admit it," the djinni interjected.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "I'm in too good mood to react to that."

Ffoukes stepped to the new couple. "I wish you all the best in the world, John… Nathaniel… my friend. Make your lovely wife happy. Oh, and John… I don't know whether you have realised, but you were wrong when you said you wouldn't do anything crazy for your wife. What you did at Whitehall _was_ something crazy… but in a good way." The older man gave his younger friend a fatherly smile. "I told you that you could be a better man than all of us magicians, didn't I? And I was right."

Nathaniel shook his head. "I'm not better than any of you… The only difference between me and the rest of the magicians is that I had a chance to know what family means. It makes a difference."

Ffoukes nodded cheerfully. "Did you know that all the newspapers wrote about your being a father as a 'reform' that was overdue?"

"Really? I haven't read any of them for weeks. I've been too busy with…" Nathaniel coloured a bit.

"…with making up for five whole years with Mrs Mandrake, I presume," Ffoukes replied, bowing slightly in Kitty's direction.

"That too." The young husband admitted. "I was getting acquainted with my daughter as well. I simply can't get enough of her, she surprises me every day. Why, last time we were talking about the wedding and moving to France, she said there was one thing she _didn't_ like about it."

"What?"

"She said she was sad because she lost her chance to become Minister for Finance."

Kitty chuckled. "And you know what my clever husband replied to her?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Ffoukes shook his head.

"He told Martha she could still become a Minister in France," she replied. "This seemed to have appeased her, at least a bit."

"Amazing creatures, children." Ffoukes glanced at little Martha, who was sitting on her grandfather's arm, busying herself with pulling the fake roses one by one out of her hair. "My wife and I might decide to have one of our own. We could say it was an accident, caused by a malfunctioning shield… after your case, no one will be surprised." Ffoukes winked at Nathaniel. "And if you got away with it, so will I."

"Yes, very likely. Good luck with the baby-making," the groom replied, putting an arm around the bride. "We have had luck with it, haven't we, Love?"

"I think so," Kitty replied, melting into his embrace.

The Minister for Internal Affairs stared at them, confused.

"This is not official yet, but…" Nathaniel leaned closer to his friend, "it seems Martha's getting a little brother or sister."

"Have you yet done the pee-stick-test that turns blue?" Bartimaeus chimed in.

"We were having a private conversation here, if you haven't noticed," the groom said sharply.

"Sorry." The djinni shrugged. "Can't help it, we djinn have much more refined hearing than you pathetic humans do. Oh, and congrats, by the way. Make sure you cut his hair regularly and deflate his ego when it gets too big. The world doesn't need a second John Mandrake…" Seeing Nathaniel's piercing stare, Bartimaeus smiled innocently. "Say, are you going to dismiss me at last?"

"Gladly. Nothing would give me greater pleasure," Nathaniel said through gritted teeth. "Just to remind you, I would have had released you weeks ago, if you hadn't insisted on attending the wedding!"

"Are you hinting that I'm not a welcome guest here?" The djinni crossed his arms.

"You're a genius to have figured that out, Bartimaeus," Nathaniel replied nastily.

Before things could turn worse, Kitty stepped between Master and Servant. "Nathaniel, Bartimaeus, both of you, _shut up, _and don't you dare ruin my wedding!"

Frowning, Nathaniel looked away form the djinni and Bartimaeus began examining the clouds drifting across the sky.

Ffoukes chuckled. "Say John, who exactly wears the trousers in this family…?"

o o o O O O o o o

I couldn't tell how much time had passed since Nathaniel had last summoned me, as we magical entities lose our track of time when we're in the Other Place. When Nathaniel dismissed me after the wedding (we parted looking daggers at each other), I made him promise he would never ever summon me again. I was quite surprised when he indeed promised it. Not that I really expected him to keep his promises… it's something he wasn't particularly good at.

Anyway, one day, I felt that someone was trying to disturb my peace, trying to summon me.

If that was Nathaniel again, he could expect a bit of shouting, I decided, before I appeared in the pentacle, in the form of a minotaur.

I almost let out a groan. No, it couldn't be _him_ again! Then I remembered: the last time I'd seen the kid, he had been twenty-five. The boy in the other pentacle was much younger. Since I knew there was no such thing as time travel (no matter what your stupid fantasy authors write, kids, don't believe them!), I was sure this wasn't The Bane of My Life (just for your information, that's how I've been thinking of Nat recently).

I sized up the boy from head to toe. Honestly, these kids were getting younger and younger when they summoned their first djinni! This one definitely wasn't older than ten.

Black hair, blue eyes, stuck-up grimace – it all suggested I was facing Nathaniel Junior. For a second I wondered how he'd managed to summon me without his father noticing – and how he'd managed to learn how to summon a magical entity at all (I doubted if his father had been giving him lessons in it).

"Bartimaeus," he spoke up, his high, almost girlish voice sounding too serious for his age, "I have a task for you."

The minotaur allowed himself a satisfied, nasty grin. I knew just how to deal with trespassing children, and I could barely wait to teach the little snot a lesson. But that, my friends, is another story…

**THE END**

**A/N: if you're wondering about a possible sequel… well, it's not very likely. Of course, I ended the fic in a way that leaves the possibility open, but as I've recently started working, I barely have time to live, let alone write, and even if I WILL write, then it won't be a fanfic but an original story - wish me good luck with it! **

**Thanks once more for your support, Dear Readers:)**

**And now, please give me a final review ;)**


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